Lax
LAX- luxury, access excess, go put on your Prada dress, risk it all for the Hollywood game, another night, don’t remember his name, just another wannabe to join the climb, for your name up in the Hollywood, lights.
Don’t recognize the reflection in the mirrors, the cracks and lines are becoming clearer, the long days, and the hard nights, taking their toll, waiting for the call back, for a starring role.
Layer by layer you get stripped away, wandering down Ventura, or Marina Del Rey, a broken doll is all that you are, to that C list movie star.
Another day, another audition, another waiting call, for your burning ambition, another snorted line to cure your condition, stumbling and slurring and you’ll never stop, just easier for you to sleep your way to the top.
Pretty baby, you’re the talk of the strip, rock n roll lady, take another sip, baby girl, you wake up in another directors bed, now one snort too many, baby doll, now you’re dead
Copyright © Meg Cook | Year Posted 2017
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