Death Of A Teenage Dream

Hey everyone. A poem which I hope will banish negative stereotypes about working women. You know people all have images of what ‘they’ look like and what areas ‘they’ come from. However nobody knows the secrets which that ‘nice girl’ next door could be keeping. So judge only if you are prepared to be judged, after all there could be a working women living near you and she could be dying inside without anyone knowing her pain. I have called this poem Death Of A Teenage Dream
I hope it may challenge some prejudices and you find it a thought provoking read.

Death Of A Teenage Dream

Known as blondie in her teens
boys all called her the teenage dream

Legs to die for, puppy dog eyes
Blondie was under the Anderson skies

Didn’t want boredom addicted to thrills
Blondie got high on vodka and pills

She wasn’t stupid she in was pain
How did that song go again

I’m your private dancer
she knew the song

nobody cared
for the girl gone wrong

She danced for money
she was just 17

Yesterday I saw a picture
my face turned pale as the headline screamed

The epitaph for the girl next door
Death of a teenage dream

@ Gayle Smith 2013

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