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mom poem

auf und ab geht ihn
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
wenn Sie heute abend kommen
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen
seien Sie nicht falsch
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
wir waren nicht viele
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude
Bewegung Ihres Körpers ist wie Musik
wenn ich zurück zu Masse gehe


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