marilyn-monroe-50s-16It is said that the goddess
Sported itchy scabby legs
Darkly shadowed armpits
And an oil-stained skirt

Her hair a straw halo
Much darker at the roots
Her face flatly bland
Until she donned her mask

The goddess wasn’t real
A stranger to herself
She primped and she posed
A performance switched on

They say when she died
Her legs weren’t shaved
She was due for a manicure
And these were the signs
Of a suicide candidate

My own legs now
Are covered with fine stubble
And tiny little scabs
My nails are overblown
My cuticles are dry
My own roots are showing
My armpits rough and prickly
I need to do the laundry
Am I near death?

I hope she died in peace
A painless deep slumber
I could never do it
My fear was way too much
I already felt such pain
I couldn’t cope with more
I just wanted an end
Not more pain at the end

What is a goddess?
I’d rather she was real
A flawed affected animal
Just like you or I
I find her more appealing
Her beauty much greater
The more she is like us

Are we goddesses too?


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