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gothic poetry

lieben Sie mich schließlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
lassen Sie einen Freudenunterhalt Sie
dieser merkwürdige Begleiter kam auf shuffling Füße
als es
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
sie hörte die Kinder, in der Sonne zu spielen

 



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