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mother daughter poem

gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
wie ich sollen Sie, helfen Sie rechts der Welt, die falsch geht
mit den meek, braunen Augen
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
voll von den Rissen
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
ich ging auf und ab die Straßen
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben

 



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