A face so perfect,
No one knew what lied behind those
Dark circles, placid face.
They never knew it was a
Wreathed mind.
They only saw her
Graceful body.
No one saw the way
She blended into the shadows.

No one knew
what she was going through,
How could they?
For,
She was a good actress :
Congealing her thoughts,
Controlling her actions.
No one saw the way tears,
Trickled from her face.
They rippled like after rain waves.

She thought herself as a nobody ;
A person who blended swiftly in
The shadows of grey, hiding herself
From all the hues.
Yet she was art.
A siren made up of
Firmament and inferno.
Her imagination was
Like an unending river.
Her grace like that of an angel.
She was the human handcrafted
By the almighty themselves.

To she world she was
a ' silent loner kid',
But little did they know,
She was much more than that.
She was a canvas of surrealism;
A masterpiece.
She is as worthy as any classic
Painting.

Her worth cannot be measured
As she's beyond all the abstract -
Materialistic things.
She is unrepeatable ;
A firmament of art.

- Ridhima Joshi