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poem

meine Mutter unterrichtete mich daß jede Nacht
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
und noch gingen sie an
ich kann nicht Ihnen jetzt erklären
die Qual des Habens zu vieler Energie
aus mir heraus unwürdig und unbekannt
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
die Schwärzung
könnten wir aber zu wissen

 



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