Not a novel parallel this,
Her stage - the lovely planet.
She wraps her soul
In such believable shades
Blending into the act
With seamless aplomb.
Her passion in crimson depth
Her fondness in a frothy white
Her gloom merging into the grays of the sky
Her wrath, concealed in colorless waters.
She smiles through the unheard heartbreaks
Grins amid a sprinkle of aches.
You might reckon you see her
But then isn't seeing equal to trusting?
Like a dew drop on a lily pad
She radiates the colors beneath her transparent existence.
Never ever seeping into the surface she touches.
What rendition, this flawless facade
A performer par excellence,
With her many charades
On this dais called the Globe.
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