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mother poem

einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
er wĂĽrde sogar seinen Witz haben
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
Nobility des Todes wieder
weich weinend
Bonbon mit Farn und stieg
es gibt ein, das dieses i einmal so sehr liebte
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war

 



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