Shooting Star

She was nervous
on the stage as a child,
the audience on the edge
of their cover charge chairs,
adorning eyes fixated
on her cute, little
dress
as she danced
beside
the play curtain.

The stage grew
on her,
as a teen she found comfort
in costumes and masks,
hiding from the lonely face
looking back
from far within
the vanity
mirror.

Soon she lost
interest
in the family orientated shows,
she needed a bigger thrill;
burlesque at eighteen.

Her parents had their issues,
concerns about where she was
heading with her life;
she told them it made her feel
alive,
worth
something.

They argued,
her father blamed
the mother for buying her
those "WHORE" outfits;
she never knew her mother
used to walk the tainted streets,
she never knew her father
used to pay for her taboo sweets.

They wanted her to grow up
far away from the 4 a.m filth
they used to be;
drug addicted,
longing to be free.

She painted her own path,
stared it right down the middle,
chose what made her
the star she is;
burnt out,
shooting across the sky.