Pop Tart

I don’t know what sparked this one
but here it is – a tale of broken dreams.
And before you decide it’s a frivolous title,
remember that real Pop Tarts get devoured…
just like the girl in this poem.

She used to be a normal gal
She used to live next door
But then the stars got in her eyes
She knew she wanted more

She got herself an agent
And connections on the coast
She got herself a posse
Paid to tell her she’s the most

And now she’s wearing little more
Than duct tape to premieres
(It covers nips on plumped-up breasts
That look a lot like spheres)

She gets a lot of “acting gigs”
(Without the tape, of course)
For porn sites on the Internet
(She screams until she’s hoarse)

Her big recording contract
And “real” movie deals all failed
Now any cash her work brings in
Is spent to make her bail

A mainstay of the rumor mill
For shows like TMZ
She’s known for being famous
And for promiscuity

She knows she’d have been happier
A relative unknown
Instead, she’s just a fallen star
Strung out on methadrone