She sat on the stool, getting her makeup done. Everything was falling in place. For a moment she was lost in her thoughts, till someone tapped her shoulder and whispered, “You’re going to be a star!”
You’re going to be a star
Gone will be your gloomy days
You will shine from afar
And everyone will know your pretty face.
A star is born
And these prying eyes,
They want their story.
Whose story?
I thought this was my journey.
A pretty face,
Accompanied by a damning headline
They never spoke of the intense pressures
Stalking, panic attacks, anger, depression.
They poked their noses,
Today was the overdose
They staged public humiliation,
Tomorrow, I use the knife they handed me
A broken star, that they may all have a piece.
And as rose petals litter my coffin
The words will resound,
“You’re going to be a star.”
I’m a broken star
Reminiscent of gloom befallen
My shine dimming from afar
And very soon, my face shall be forgotten.
bowendiaries 