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sad poetry

ruhig mit reverance, im Awe
diese sind
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren
das Swanbestehen
sie limps mit dem Anhalten des schmerzlichen Schrittes
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
erinnern sich Sie
er wird gegangen
desolate und einsam
ich mag es
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird

 



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