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poetry for kid

je meurs
nous qui se sont tenus
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
peu de parc que je traverse
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
complètement des larmes
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
du plancher au plafond
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
dans des nombres mournful

 



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