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teacher poem

hängen Sie keinen Wreath
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages
möglicherweise ist es gleichgültig, das Sie starben
für dann außen
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
ich bin fevered
dieses ist das Arsenal
ich habe die Welt geworfen
sind Sie lebendig?
durch das Ufer durch das Meer

 



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