Poor Material Girl

July 20, 2008
The bells ring and the people scream…blood.
She is sitting on her bed cell; she is waiting to be forgiven…for been a girl.
The cell is cold; hay lies around the floor, with water dripping and with the sound of rats.
She cries, she brings herself up, she prays…
Months before she was in jailed, she used to wear the most beautiful diamonds, emeralds, silk…
Now her fame, her love, all disappear, in a splash of blood.
Everyone loved her; everyone looked at her, with so much kindness.
Her own people loved her, her grandfather admired her.
Her husband not too into her, but still he was fascinated with her.
Her life is as if it was a dream inside a dream.
Those special memoirs: The lights… the pastries… the colors… the style… the silk… the people…
Letting everyone down, would be her greatest unhappiness.
Now, cold, waiting for an absolution, until one day they are none.
She walks, she turns, she sees, she cries, she faints, she turns, she sees, she is gone.

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