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short poem

seien Sie nicht falsch
Bonbon mit Farn und stieg
Liebe ist tausend Möglichkeiten gesungen worden
ich mag es
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
er wird gegangen
der Schnee whispers über mich
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
so verloren
zu einigem die fetten Götter
gebildet vom loveliness alleine

 



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