|Picture by Bert Stern|
The clock struck twelve,
But no one would delve,
Behind the smiles,
Of the party girl with her precious pearls
Sporting coiffured and well groomed curls,
As the champagne flowed,
No sadness showed
Behind her smiles!
The clock struck one,
A new year had begun,
She walked tentatively alone for almost a mile,
Tears threatened and pricked behind the smiles,
The tears they flowed,
Her sadness had stewed
Behind her smiles !
And at a quarter to two,
She knew what she wanted to do.
She cut her flesh , felt feelings afresh,
The blood seemed comforting as it flowed,
Refuse to slow,
She didn't weep as the blood oozed and seeped,
She passed away on that brand new day,
Smiling genuinely at the start of a new year in her morbid decay !
Submitted toMagpie Tales