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lost love poem

ich ging auf und ab die Straßen
wir, die standen
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
für dann außen
war sie nicht für diesen einzigartigen Geruch
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
alle innen und alle ohne mich

 



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