Marilyn Monroe

A mad poet, dancing through space. You scribbled venom, running from fate.
A wandering prophet, searching the deserts for a glimpse of God, only to find
sand.

A Goddess, you longed for mortality. Wishing for someone to love who you
were, not who you had been. All the while holding a world that loved only
your beauty, never looking within.

A gypsy forsaken by the music, surrounded by glittering diamonds, but they
weren’t your friends. Pursued by men who never cared or ever would, all
they ever wanted was between your legs.

A million sparkling pieces, exploding and shattering, will you ever stop
spinning out of control? Will you ever find what you crave? More fragile than
you appeared, you were stronger than they knew.

Norma Jean was lost, found in the coffin of Miss Marilyn Monroe. Was the
price of that last kiss worth your soul? Did they truly love Marilyn Monroe?
Were you still Norma Jean at the end of it all?

Now you are an icon, worshipped and idolized, but did they ever look into those
beautifully broken eyes? Beloved by a generation, one that never understood
the scars that lay just beneath the skin.