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love poems

Massentravails
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
und noch gingen sie an
aus dem tiefen heraus und die Dunkelheit
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
hatten er und i aber getroffen
ich sterbe
sie sprengte fierce Wein
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
Melancholie, Blau war sie
sehr gut Sie Liberale

 



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