She spat venom, walked around like she owned the place and simply would not cut any slack for anybody. She was vile and ruthlessly real. Her tears specialized in dissipating both her guard and the artificial layers of makeup on her face. She seemed like she was violently in love with somebody the world knew she wouldn't even have spat on. She was generally vehement but her disposition was that of sticking up with whatever was right. Her demeanour did not give away absolutely anything about her inside albeit she knew this one boy could see she deserved more than just the adjective supercilious. She was composed of intensity and affinity for pain. Anyhow, she had her way with words and she covered it all really well, why she was like that remains still unknown. However we loved her just as fiercely as she tried day and night to keep her interior hidden from the world. She was Sharon Raiprakash.
As it is, the dismal fact is that she is no more amongst us. Her body remains but her soul has perished. The body as of today is functioning by means of a lot of fury, angst and confusion. Sadly, none of it claims to have a single connection with her soul, whatsoever. The grandeur of her dance and the finesse of her dress sense remain but the sensations of her beloved have left her. As such being devoid of a conscience herself she treats him like a stack of hay. As it is, the dismal fact for us and most of all me is to accept that Sharon Raiprakash is no more amongst us.
In mourning,
Savage
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