"Is it all you dreamed of?"


She wished to be rich, famous;
to prance round with her name in
bright lights, flashing; a star all her own.
God, was she was happy-

She had a great debut, immediately a sensation;
people galore, a sea of pens, paper,
cameras swarming, flash after flash,
each one crowding her every movement,
enclosing her.

Where was her escape? Where were the exits?

Her face on every newspaper, magazine, like a microscope image;
her faults hand-picked, like ripe fruit, a grape carefully picked off the vine and crushed slowly between the fingers.

What a dream she had thought long ago.

Never did sacrifice drift through an ear,
the day she walked onto the stage.
She sighed as she covered her panicked face,
yet more paparazzi engulfed her.

Soon her cheering fans ceased to exist,
her ideas merely trivial, a mistake;
scandals, fights, tears, she took a deep breath,
she couldn’t keep up with the spiral much longer,
Her name was known.

“Is this what you dreamed of?”
One drink after another, glass after glass,
she watched her career drown with.


Are all dreams worth living?