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Prashasti Aryal Feb 2020
I was loved
When I was young and free

I was loved
When my hair caught the breeze

I was loved
When the willows would sing for me

Then
        
            it

                    stopped.

I am not loved
Because I love myself

I am not loved
Because their hair doesn't catch the breeze

I am not loved
Because the willows only sing for me.

I am hated for
my differences.
Prashasti Aryal Nov 2018
The sun shines over the horizon,
Waking the world with its light.

And then he takes off to the field,
Playing along with the dandelions.

Wind brushes the hair out of his mysterious eyes,
As he gazes at the scenery full of yellow.

Dandelions dangling along the soft breeze,
He runs his hand along them as he walks past.

His toms slipping on the yellowish grass,
As he glides across the field.

He opens his empty arms widely,
And screams.

Screams in pain, sorrow, relief and joy.
Have you ever felt joy and grief both at the same time? You want to laugh out loud but you're sobbing.And you want to cry but you can't stop laughing

— The End —