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teen poem

gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
il était un jeune oysterman grand
je meurs
regardez avec les yeux longing et savez que je suivrai
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau

 



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