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mother poem

ich sterbe
voll von den Rissen
ich sah die erste Birne
sie sagte
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
und mein Name ist truthful
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE

 



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