Fall Out.
She was from small town dreams.
One stoplight place where they all know your name type things.
Miss Dairy Queen 2007,
Folks named her Heaven
because her presence made them feel closer to God.
She was blond;
sapphire eyes and bouncing curls.
Milky skin and body pure;
she was almost virginal
(not counting backseat gropes
by the captain of the football team)
She was
apple pie and ice cream,
barbecues on Sundays,
Little Miss American Dream.
Gave folks something to believe in
for they could see in her eyes
she was bound for bigger things.
Bigger dreams.
Sky around her way, too small;
stars too far, she had to follow them
out of country pastures and
into greener scenes.
Too claustrophobic in the country.
Bought herself a new set of wings
and flew south
looking for a change
and her destiny on the stage.
L.A.
But young Heaven found only Hell
in the City of Angels.
A land of masks that hid the dangers,
casting shadows on lonely streets of strangers.
She learned
how to work the corners into angles.
Wrote home about how her
star was on the rise.
Left out the part about how
stars would rise between her thighs,
movies with no scripts,
turning tricks to catch eyes.
She had too much pride
and not enough heart to tell them
about nightly rituals,
leading her down dark alleys
and into hotel rooms.
The loneliness, how it consumed,
and how nothing was what it seemed.
Her stars, slipping from the sky
with nothing to land on.
She never planned on this.
A destiny of darkened rooms and torn sheets,
cuffs upon wrists and pillows
that hid her screams.
Too scared to admit
she would always be a small town girl
with nothing to show but big dreams,
lost in a city of fallen stars
and angels with tattered wings.
*
She was from small town dreams.
One stoplight place where they all know your name type things.
Miss Dairy Queen 2007,
Folks named her Heaven
because her presence made them feel closer to God.
She was blond;
sapphire eyes and bouncing curls.
Milky skin and body pure;
she was almost virginal
(not counting backseat gropes
by the captain of the football team)
She was
apple pie and ice cream,
barbecues on Sundays,
Little Miss American Dream.
Gave folks something to believe in
for they could see in her eyes
she was bound for bigger things.
Bigger dreams.
Sky around her way, too small;
stars too far, she had to follow them
out of country pastures and
into greener scenes.
Too claustrophobic in the country.
Bought herself a new set of wings
and flew south
looking for a change
and her destiny on the stage.
L.A.
But young Heaven found only Hell
in the City of Angels.
A land of masks that hid the dangers,
casting shadows on lonely streets of strangers.
She learned
how to work the corners into angles.
Wrote home about how her
star was on the rise.
Left out the part about how
stars would rise between her thighs,
movies with no scripts,
turning tricks to catch eyes.
She had too much pride
and not enough heart to tell them
about nightly rituals,
leading her down dark alleys
and into hotel rooms.
The loneliness, how it consumed,
and how nothing was what it seemed.
Her stars, slipping from the sky
with nothing to land on.
She never planned on this.
A destiny of darkened rooms and torn sheets,
cuffs upon wrists and pillows
that hid her screams.
Too scared to admit
she would always be a small town girl
with nothing to show but big dreams,
lost in a city of fallen stars
and angels with tattered wings.
*
- i be miss.abi
- reppin houston, United States
- the full info
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