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Ik ben geen dichter, ik pen veel lichter.
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16. feb, 2016
2018+
Wij verspelen de wereld.
Onze moeder roept het ons na.
Raakt schreeuwend opgebrand.
Een lange winterslaap nadert.
De wende gaat los in as en bloed.
Dekent de overspelige mens voorgoed.
© Rudolf
.
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