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lyric poetry

meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter
warum
einige windigere Tage
die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
voll von den Rissen
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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