Marilyn
Peter woodgate
You were a perfect bastard
until the world’s impurities
tainted your soul.
Insecurity and exploitation
tore virgin flesh from your bones
and exhibited dreams to the world.
They moulded you into a celebrity,
your face peering from every magazine,
you were a star!
Shining in the heavens of
your light pierced the gloom
of shadowy streets
illuminating a public, eager
to sample the image you had become,
exuberance personified.
But, tragedy lay behind the facade of fame
your beauty, disguised by the cosmetics of life.
Did you feel sadness as cameras laid you bare
your smile stolen by a million hearts?
Was the absence of love a bitter pill to swallow?
Did you find comfort in the arms of sleep?
And did you leap into that final abyss?
Or, were you pushed?
Copyright Peter Woodgate
is it prose Peter? or Poetry, you'll have to explain it to me.
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