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pumpkin poem

er war ein hohes junges oysterman
wenn ich zurĂĽck zu Masse gehe
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
ich bin fevered
BlĂĽten der Babys
Bonbon mit Farn und stieg
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert
gibt es jedes dort
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
ruhig mit reverance, im Awe

 



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