Liebe Eltern, verzeihe ich Ihnen meinem Leben, gezeugt in einer graubraunen Stadt, die Absicht war gut; Die Straße jetzt führend, sehe ich noch des Remains des Tageslichtes.
Es war nicht der gewölbte Knochen; Sie gaben mir genügend Nahrung, um sich zu erneuern. Es war das Gewicht des Verstandes hielt mich verbogen, da ich hoch wuchs.
Es war nicht Ihre Störung. Was weitergegangen sein sollte, hat der Pfeil, der von einem tried Bogen auf ein tried Ziel abgezielt wird, sich zurück gedreht und verwundet mit Fragen, die Sie nicht gestellt hatten.
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