She is no princess living in no castle. She is in between of chaos and and pity with a glimpse of illuminating light. A lady warrior with a class with no fancy lifestyle. She belongs to the most high proudly walking under the heat of the sunshine with head held up so high praising. She is not wasted talents, she is a meaningful sufferings. Keep throwing stones and she'll build the strongest wall đđđģđĒđģI would say that she is the universe, the galaxies or the stars in the night sky.
But they are common analogies used these days by poets. She's not a space, She's not a void or an empty space with glimpses of light. She's not a vast black mass with spots of white. She's not the unfathomable, and she's not the ethereal. She can be reached and she can be sensed in her entirety. She's not the vacuum. She is broken yet an incredible creation. She is a compressed amalgamation of beauty and flaws contained in a singular entity. She is indeed a spectrum of colors.