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My City

The wind

The pink sun stares at sweaty faces The sultry air stirs the bony branches

By Pratik Mainali

The pink sun stares at sweaty faces

The sultry air stirs the bony branches

I lean down, from the window sill

Leaves fall down the oppressive sky

Like long endless locks of tresses

A blast of air tugs the drapes

The windows rattle, I inch back

Hazy air laps in strange shapes

Tosses me with a sudden smack

In its ominous, brutal wake

I collapse on the rattan rack

Piercing stick pierces my nape

A sharp pain radiates with a crack

A frothy fluid foams down my chin

Sickening dizziness sweeps over me

Louder become the thunderous din

My eyes roll up, I cannot see.


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