White, Grey; Black.
Look how she thrashed,
She thrashed like the waves,
Again and again, against the rocks;
Till the thrashing bruised her soul.
Look how she fell,
She fell like a vessel,
Void and empty, shattered glass;
Yet she held on, anchored smile.
Look how she went,
She went down like a soldier,
Without a murmur;
Still fighting her fight.
Bit by bit, a part of her,
Rose with the smoke from her pyre,
Swallowed whole by the sky;
Slowly ceased her fire.
That was her cancer, cold as ice,
But she was fire, and hard she tried,
Ice and fire they were,
Oh, what a cold fire they were,
Never to exist together,
Destructors of each other.
It's a Metaphor
Fiza Khan: a poetess, a musician, a debater, a MUNner, an actress, a national level vocabulary champion, a school topper, and a beautiful human being. None of the following things can be detected if you happen to meet her in person. She is a rebel- a quirky tumblr kid.
Fiza, like every other human is a complex being, but what makes her unique is the way in which she embraces her complexity. Her romance with literature is very evident: plays and poems that drive the adolescents away, are the ones that Fiza adores. She's the person who searches the dusty dark corners of the library. You name it, she's read every other book.
Before engaging in a conversation with her you know that you might end up questioning your existence, because the casual way she inserts deadly metaphors is in fact, quite deadly!
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