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Why do I need to love myself,
when I have your words comforting me
                 like the cup of hot tea in my hands and the blanket around me
                         this cold winter night.
I'm writing poems to you now, but you don't have to know
I am running away
                               to the edges of the universe

to catch up with my soul.
Wanderlust Extreme.
Pardon my senseless poetry.
I used to look out the window,
and see the city scrawled out beneath me.
I used to see birds fly and imagine myself
with them,
no boundaries to my flight.

Maybe having my head too far up in the clouds,
lifted my feet from the ground.
And as I stood there, gently levitating,
the shaking earth took away everything.

Now, I'm a crumpled mess on the ground.
It hurts my eyes to look up at the sun.
Looking out the window shows only
a brick wall, a barrier to my imagination.

The birds have betrayed me, so has the sky-
the Earth has chained me to herself.
My wings have been ripped off,
even before they ever sprouted.


_

_
I wish the earthquake would undo itself.

25.04.15. Tuesday.
Nepal.
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