May 26, 2011
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Golden child.
With status high,
With impeccable taste,
With unwavering poise,
With popularity to spare.
Prideful as a peacock
Strutting up the staircase of success
Strutting past the world’s problems
Strutting over those who oppose you.
But underneath your feet,
The stairs scream out in pain.
Your oppression being too hard to bear.
Pawns in your game.
How undeserving you are.
Heart black as coal.
The gorgeous package made,
To hide the dark nothingness of the content.
How joyous it would be to
Pull you down
From your pedestal.
To see the horror on your face
When you realize,
A false angel
Is no better than her steps to glory.

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