She

Right there in the corner she sits and drafts galaxies

For her mind is a beautiful machine which runs errands to find the missing pieces of her musings

She reads to get away from the monotony and blandness of life

From the reality which is imperfect

She writes to express and not get drowned in distress

Being human is a hard means of subsistence

Proudly she claims that "the beauty of this universe is in its very existence"

Her worn-out diaries and novels have always cheered her soul

her world may seem fake but the magic in its air is breathable

Not always is she able to find the light in the dark

But the hope of digging out happiness has always been so stark

She has faith in the preaching which is built upon the folly and fear

The fear of losing, losing herself in this ocean full of disappointing disillusionments

She smiles to cover the wearing wounds in her heart

Which have made her stronger and aware of the challenges since the start

Let her fall in love with the imagination which speaks volumes about the potential of this world to Become something so much better...