Monday, July 4, 2011
She was on a jet to Malta
On the eve her mother died…
She Facebooked, “Message, not received”,
To her relatives, she lied.
She never spent a day at work,
Opting to follow every whim.
Her nights, spent at the discotheques,
Afternoons, sweating at Gold’s gym.
Invited to every one man show,
“Worship me”, she thought aloud…
Celebrating her life, alone,
While embracing the entire crowd.
She made new friends in every town,
They entertained her day and night…
We all carried her emotional baggage,
So she could travel the world light.