Fame's Obituary

A virgin innocence beams under the spot light, shushed as the speakers buzz. A flurry of question bury the noise and a voice rises above. A blanket of awe wraps itself around the shiny toy. "Who is..?" "Why is..?" "Can I be...?" Wait that camera bulb is blinding. Contorted ecstasy drilled into the doll. "I want to be..." These frames will turn it off. Others turn into my own "Why aren't I..?" Toppled and small...An escape is my hope. Push & Turn, my way to cope. One by one I fall to peace. My subconscious banging and tugging at every string. It's too late. "I need to be.." I am. Finally famous.


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