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suicide poem

irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
ein Himmel, der nie Sonne, Mond oder Sterne gekannt hat
Sie sind mein Begleiter
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
nicht von der breiten Welt des Ganzen

 



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