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■ The oak
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The longing for my beauty bends a lot
those saddened bones I have to carry straight; from legs to brain in pieces they will rot - with helpless stanzas you'll confound my weight. It's hard, you know... the gape devours my soul when I confront the brightness of your eyes and I shall dwell in darkness like a mole that fights the sun until one fighter dies. Be praised in life and glorified in death your voice, your face, your deepness and your light that bursts illusions from your flaming breath and swims in twilight towards me, tonight. Grow like a flower in my heart and stay, not in this world to whom you'll be astray. 08.10.2008
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