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teen poem

sehr gut Sie Liberale
aus mir heraus unwĂĽrdig und unbekannt
ich brenne keinen Duft
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daĂź er rĂĽber sein
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
hoch-getragenes Rennen
zwei Reihen der Kohlpflanzen
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel

 



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