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dark poetry

ich ging auf und ab die Straßen
Nobility des Todes wieder
die kleinen weißen Gebete
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
geben Sie mich

 



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