Like a marionette,
She sits a puppet with hanging strings
Tangled in masters hands.
Her once darling dress,
Now just tattered remnants of what once was.
Her face so delicately designed
And purposefully painted with perfection,
Now cracking, crushed, and caked with dirt.
There was once a time when she,
Was elegant and at her very prime,
She twirled and leapt and danced with pride.
Her iridescent smile lit up the stage,
But she let life whisk her away.
Decadence, thick in the air
Led to her sweet and slow demise.
Tossed callously aside,
Used by some, abused by others
Left to repose.
She lay in wait
For the her last dance,
To a lovers requiem.