In a game of terror, she was ******,
Dice loaded, with no one to trust.
Her face, a mystery, black and blue,
Revealed as they pulled her through.
Rumors whispered, bottles empty,
Crowds gathered, curious plenty.
Cops watched, her fame widespread,
Yet her perfect hair was all that led.
Like Natalie Wood, in dreams she gleams,
With Brando, McQueen, in cinematic scenes.
Seventeen, she faced the screen,
Learning life's truths, unseen.
A world apart, audition from part,
Breaking hearts with more than art.
Others listened, knew the game,
To win, more than just a name.
Doesn't matter where cameras point,
Their light on her, anoint.
From pigtails cut at fifteen,
To washed up dreams at twenty two, unseen.
Natalie Wood, in dreams she stays,
With Hopper, Dean, in endless plays.
Natalie Wood, forever gleams,
In dreams with stars, in silver beams.
This poem is inspired by TV Girl's song 'Natalie Wood,' a track I truly love