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Max Neumann
Poems
Apr 27
The Sick One
Lastly the shadow in the eye
Spoken by the sick one
His glances speak
Dream-colored
Dead language
No one belongs to us!
The shadows encircle the sick one
Sweat-soaked his forehead shines
Reflecting ancient beings
We buy up cities!
Conquer entire streets
Victors from ****** battles
Shadows lie in the way
Thus the sick one stumbles
Above him a black sky
We have won!
War of the glass swords
Whisper us one more wish...
But the sick one sleeps
For the next thousand years
A red, true sleep
The Sick One
Written by
Max Neumann
M/Inner Shelter
(M/Inner Shelter)
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From the ashes
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