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good bye poem

meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
wenig Gatter wurde schließlich erreicht
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
gerade jetzt
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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