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life poem

drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
zu einigem die fetten Götter
auf und ab geht ihn
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
ich bilde meinen Abschirmrahmen, aber niemand weiß
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit

 



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