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teen poetry

truely
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
möglicherweise
Gott
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
tat Sie sehen überhaupt ein Krokodil
sehen Sie, von dieser Fälschung von ihm
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch

 



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