Down her face run tears of scarlet
As she runs from her life as a harlot.
Who could she blame?
They had promised her fortune and fame
But then it was engulfed in a flash of flame.
Such is the life of a starlet.

Softly, gently come her cries
All filled with so many "who's" and "why's"
Her attackers simply go on feeding,
Taking full advantage of her constant bleeding,
All while her life begins receding
And she gives up with a pain-filled sigh.

Her full form was not so full,
Though she lived it all seemed so dull,
Her fair features seem not so fair,
Broken inside this snare
All because she wished to dare
That she could feel the simple pull.

Love, was she so agreeable?
Were her actions honestly so foreseeable?
And now though her skin is gray,
Grater than those who flay,
Her body that can simply say:
Rejoice, you may rejoice, for her corpse is malleable.