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short love poem

einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
ca. beschwerte sich zum Meister
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
desolate und einsam
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
sie sprengte fierce Wein
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach

 



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