They took you as a child and robbed you of your life,
Now you’re somebody famous or a rock star’s wife.
Your pain is pleasure, somehow that makes perfect sense.
They **** your sad mind and shut down your defence.
Your soul is precious but you sold it to the dealer,
He was a ***** devil, a dream stealer.
Fed off your talents, packaged and threw you on a shelf.
You were exposed and couldn’t help yourself.
Made to strip naked for magazine covers,
The photoshopped expressions show you are not bothered.
Your drug dealer’s happy you have him on speed dial,
Hallucinating drugs are the devil’s gifts that make you smile.
Not everything that glitters is going to be gold,
But I’m guessing you were never told.
Now you’re drowning in self-hate,
In a race against your own fate.
You want to stop the clock,
All the noises must stop.
Now you’re dying, dying, dying, nearly dead.
You want the voices to stop, but they increase instead.
Telling you what to wear and how you should live.
Your life is no longer a precious gift.
You’re on the dark side, a nightmare, a living curse.
And every day that passes it gets even worse.
As they grab you and play with your head,
Stick in some needles and make you happy instead.
Now you’re a pop star with your own unique style,
And even better than that is your fixed smile.
It’ll soon fade away and be replaced by side effects,
And you’ll start to remember, you never really forgot.
They will try to silence you, no matter what.
And now you’re working against the clock.
Fragmented mind, memories buried inside.
Traumatized to the core, your screams are ignored.
It’s all bottled inside, you have nowhere to hide.
You try to release the chains in which you are bound.
For that your reputation is beaten to the ground.
There’s a heavy price an individual must pay.
For every letter of truth that he must say.
So you’re either shot down, a bullet lodged in your head,
Or overdosed on pills and killed on your own bed.
You lived on the fast lane and died a tragic death.
Only remembered on your death day, just like the rest.
Many came before you and many still to come.
So you’re not that special really, just another one.
Just another star on this rollercoaster ride.
Shot into the sky, blinded by the spotlight.
www.mypoeticcatharsis.wordpress.com
