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halloween poetry

quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
je ne prie pas pour la paix
babylon -- où je vais rêver
splendor doux
dans des nombres mournful
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée


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