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gothic poetry

meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
und noch gingen sie an
im Bereich
sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
ein Nebel fuhr unten
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
aus dem tiefen heraus und die Dunkelheit
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen

 



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