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love poetry

pourquoi si triste mon bel?
les jours hypocrites
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
je me tiens par temps gris froid
à certains les gros dieux
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
ce que je souhaite remarquer

 



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