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child poem

je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
mélancolie, bleu il était
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
à l'aube, il a dit
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
l'obscurité
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
ville qui n'est pas une ville
pas du monde large de totalité
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
certains des maux que vous avez traités

 



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