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suicide poem

quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
dans sa tente gardée
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
la nuit était noire et triste
nuit mystérieuse
étaient elle pas pour cette odeur singulière
le long des banques
tous en baisse les années
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
une fois ce gazon mou

 



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