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haiku poetry

meine sorge, wenn sie hier mit mir ist
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
Melancholie, Blau war sie
so verloren
ich bildete ein Versprechen einmal, eins nur
obwohl Lieberepine und Grundscheuern
könnten wir aber zu wissen
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach

 



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