Gone With the Wind
Burnt out
Dead and buried
In the vanity of her beauty.
Every sip
A subtle tip to those who see
A cry for help.
She drag on her chill
Lung fill
Mood red like the glass half filled.
Does anybody hear her
Does anyone see her
She is gone, with the cloud.
Preyed she was
Steady gazed to paparazzi
Depressed and used
Even the hands that came urged her on.
© Copyright, Dagu Shangevlumunl 2015
Response to our Inspiration Call on August 23, 2015
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