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sympathy poem

warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
BlĂĽten der Babys
lassen Sie nicht hören
ich halte Ihr Herz
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
letzter Mitternacht
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
die kleinen weiĂźen Gebete

 



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