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i love you poem

in den mournful Zahlen
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
die Schwärzung
das traurigste des Jahres
ich liebe die alten melodious Lagen
im Hafen neuen Yorks
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
ein Nebel fuhr unten
dieses ist das Arsenal
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
hoch-getragenes Rennen
ich sterbe

 



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