She’s trying to impress the world;
To make herself into something exceptional.
Into something dazzled and swirled.
But exceptional is convectional.
She sees the bright lights,
And think they have so much to offer her.
Maybe even the chance for her to set her eyes on new heights,
Or to make a statement for gossip to stir.
She can’t see that she’s injecting herself with venom,
With this need for high-fashioned denim,
For her good side to be caught on the magazine,
Can’t even see she’s doing it all to remain in “the happening.”
So she shoots up on another dose of fame,
Says she’s trying to remain in the game,
Says she’s the victim here, no need for the blame,
Too stubborn though to see her snarling shame.
Beauty no sooner left than it came,
She was convinced she was the damsel waiting for her dame,
It’s the name she wanted to claim,
The ideal she wanted to name,
And the wood fueling her flame.
It’s too bad it was killing her all the same.