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epic poetry

gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
möglicherweise ist es gleichgültig, das Sie starben
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
ich liebe mein Leben, aber nicht zu gut
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken

 



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  • Junior Creative Poetry Contest: Here, everyone is well versed (The Salt Lake Tribune)
 

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