I’m Mz Mortenson, if you please.
I dispensed with the charade
when I went to my grave.

Life can be tricky
if you’re pretty.

My life was a role,
I couldn’t always control.

How unaware the dumb bombshell seemed.
Still, I was labeled the obscene Norma Jeane.

in reel life’s small doses,
the role was emotionally corrosive,
merely etching away my fragile identity.

In real life it proved erotically explosive
destroying my privacy, serenity, and sanity.

I thrilled in some 29 films, I took a few pills,
was a plaything for mobsters and tabloid mills.

When I started a fling with the president,
did I have any idea what I was up against?

Some free advice - beware of counterintelligence.

Homicide, suicide - what does it matter
- which one is sadder?

I knew I’d always be there for you, sensuously beckoning,
at 24 frames per second, like an eternal flame - flickering.

Across the years, 400 plus, my stories endlessly play out their parts.
I played not on painted stage, but I knew the human heart - 
I captured, with quill and scratch, the passions of laughter and tears.
I held up a mirror, in doublet and verse, to things unbound by years,
like the weight of grief, the lightness of love and the serpents of ambition.
The music of verse, the lilt and fall of words, hold a strange enchantment,
brief spells where fools, princes, witches and kings shared a selfsame planet.
Though my bones lay in hallowed ground, the stories I spun linger yet.
They've played out, in age after age, on a thousand, thousand stages.
It’s well done, if I say so myself, to live on, in millions of minds and bookshelves.
.
.
A song for this:
Just Like Romeo and Juliet by The Reflections