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Internationale Gedichte Sämtliche nicht-deutschsprachige Gedichte. |
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18.08.2005, 15:34 | #1 |
Aus: Dead Poets Society
A sweaty-toothed madman.
I close my eyes. His image flicks beside me. With a stare that pounds my brain. His hands reach out and choke me. All the time he mumbles slowly... Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold! Strech it, pull it, it will never cover any of us. Kick at it, beat at, it will never be enough. From the moment we enter crying, to the moment we leave dying, it will cover just your head as you wail and cry and scream! |
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