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My City, Gen-Next, Slammed

Cry for a Paradise

One day when the cold wind passes through my ears with no whispers of despair
By Amrit Poudel

 One day

when the cold wind

passes through my ears

with no whispers of despair

One day

when the scorching sun

passes through my temple

and I no longer tremble

One day

when the flower blossoms

and the fragrance sweeps me away

but with the courage to live for another day

One day

when the empty house

reminds me of a person

that I was to become one day


Related story

Rum Doodle: Summiteers’ Paradise


I shall be freed

from your spells

wherein every color

and in every delight

you make me wonder

if it's all fabricated

if everyone's in disguise

putting their best effort

to have me believe 

there's no such thing called 'LIFE'.  

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