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short friendship poem

erklären Sie mir
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
fällt hier kein Licht
gibt es jedes dort
entlang den Bänken
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein

 



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