Marilyn

Way past midnight now, her mind is getting crowder, How are you doing these days? How things have been? Little girl from broken home, No one knew and no one cared. Pillow fights and age 11, Memories that she had shared. "New name, new me" you said. Tired of trying, nobody believed. Broken homes of your own, 36 and buried, relieved. How far is my good, can you tell? Oh! Well, you never found your own. Not to pry but you could try To sing yourself more birthday songs. Overdosed on pills and loves, Were you scared, Norma Jeane? Even the loveliest moon, smells like gunpowder.