astrological [poems.]

i. marilyn monroe

she was a marilyn monroe

kind of girl.

lips painted red

and hair perfectly curled.

her smile was dazzling,

like the pearls on her chest;

but she couldn't laugh,

even if she tried her best.

you see,

no matter how hard she tried

she couldn't shake the feeling that she had died;

that there was no point

of a joyless life.

where one believes in useless strife.

behind her smile and her gleam,

she was ripped apart at the seams.

yet no one noticed her growing pain,

and she found no joy in her rising fame.

but she would still twirl in her silk white gown,

try her best to hide her frown.

but she knew one day

she'd become a ghost.

for marilyn monroe too,

died of overdose.

(atti)