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father poem

vous faites ne pas entendre
nous qui se sont tenus
donnez-moi
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
hauts murs et énorme
y a il quiconque lĂ 
les jours hypocrites
Ă  certains les gros dieux
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
course haut-soutenue
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé

 



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