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Stigma Fighters: Paakhi Bhatnagar
Sometimes, I want to hide behind a rock. A rock with moss; That sprouts from my tears, Kept upon the sand Of things that I lost. Hidden in a labyrinth Of missed chances. The rock will be my home, Until I am ready to come out To the world where you Have to wipe your tears, And brush the sand, And rocks are of glass That are easily broken. Sometimes,