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friend poem

warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
Überschreiten durch die huddled und häßlichen Wände
wer den Regen liebt
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stĂĽrzen
fĂĽr diese weiĂźen Arme ĂĽber meinen Ansatz

 



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