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happy birthday poem

hängen Sie keinen Wreath
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
meine sorge, wenn sie hier mit mir ist
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
Glasbläser der Zeit
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
in Ihrem Flug

 



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