The Jest of It All
She was seventeen when she was crowned the boy’s queen
They had all had a turn by the time she was eighteen
And the jest of it all had her floating on air
But when she was alone she was simply a child again
They had led her to indulge in her hedonism too
There was no time for morals or lessons, she knew
For the jest of it all was as tempting as sin
Still she’d pray to a god, every night she was a woman again
The alcohol in her, she never could handle
But to her drunken remarks, no one could hold a candle
It was the jest of it all after shooting up Fridays
But when she came down she was sober like Mondays again
In her twenties her ignorance was put on for shows
Her pretty young eyes were as deep as she goes
Though the executives went in even deeper than that
The jest of it all and her body kept her floating again
Her family ties were as loose as could be
And her legs were open for her weekly jubilee
So when an unwanted surprise grew inside
She began to wake up from her directionless ride
And the jest of it all had subsided to life
For the queen, once a jester, was only a mother to them
Copyright © Herb Alyètte | Year Posted 2010
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