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short funny poem

ich bot sie aller Abschied
die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
ich ging auf und ab die StraĂźen
der Duft kam
fĂĽr diese weiĂźen Arme ĂĽber meinen Ansatz
folglich kann ich nicht
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
war sie nicht fĂĽr diesen einzigartigen Geruch
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
schreckliche Wahrheiten diese sind
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
sĂĽsses splendor
ich singe Ihnen

 



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