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religious poem

obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
unter dem Helm des Warriors
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
Glasbläser der Zeit
Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
wir waren nicht viele
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend

 



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