Throwaway
She sits in a makeup prison of her own choosing,
mirroring her daytime as a domicile prima donna star
Always craving the wrong kind of attention,
refrigerated happiness is a guilty pleasure given
There’s always plenty of cash and calories to burn,
shopping is a showcase trophy wife’s diva freedom
Got a corporate husband who loves looking at his sexy spouse,
his upper management skills pays for the plush house,
and the other lavish accouterments
But she knows he lives for his business evening entertainment,
showing off his sensual marital partner to his clients
Hearing the oohs and the aahs
seems to always stroke his ego just right
Parading around in pricey cosmopolitan clothes,
she’s at her best putting on a good, private fashion show
Making the other women present envious ... though curious,
wondering how does she
keep that taut skin package wrapped tight with a bow
All the while having the money hounds tongues wagging,
as the champagne and business propositions flow
She has the key to the kingdom,
and she ain’t never gon throw it away
Age is her only enemy,
which she fights with the fierceness
of an Amazon warrior
The body in the mirror demands daily perfection,
but cosmetic coverups can only do so much
Her natural beauty’s gonna be a throwaway one day —
and when the sad reckoning comes,
divorce will be a legal wrinkle that can’t be airbrushed away
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