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birthday poetry

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
comme bougie blanche
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
les jours endeared Ă  chaque MUSE
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
certains des maux que vous avez traités
ils me demandent où j'ai été
ombres à ailes balayant près

 



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