© Fiction Writer Anthony Darden
We fall from depression. Divided in heart and soul, we fall. We are at the mercy of our masters. We do not see them, because we do not know they are there, harvesting our mind, the puppet masters promising us riches and rewards. We are blinded by the false glory, our soul swallowed up and spit out to render kings and queens, conquers, to false brotherhood and Prima Donnas. The drive a relentless plastered smile, an endless exhaustion of arms pulling from every direction, calling, screaming in your sleep, and leaving no room for self-conservation.
Goals of success, to be happy and free, to stand against the world with love and admiration, and find the love of your life, sit in horror of silent tears, of the smiling plastered face, engagements dates that tie the slave to contractual ways, money to be made and paid, the subsidiary of fame and glory. No free time to claim your own. To high up there on the throne. Looking down, an ego so high, everything you hear, seems to be a lie.
Emotions crushed, but still maintain the smile. The PR an illusion, like you're standing up proud. All decked out in your high fashion flair. An entourage to comb your hair. Little people can see from afar. Screaming and shouting to touch a star. The lonely soul, high on the throne. A million buck cage, you call your home. Can’t walk down the street, or even get high. One wrong move, blacken the public eye. The dream they have of you living large, the one they chase, thinking they will be in charge. The one of sacrifice, of lovers, real family, and friends, because paranoia has set in to win. The king of the mountain, and not one true friend. Lonely at the top, packed with lies, lies and lies, you claim to despise. All the money in the world, can't make it right. Ask Michael Jackson, who died in the night.
A trick for the brain, when promising fame, throw a tight booty, no check for the fruity. Who needs education, with money to reign? The flashing big lights. A million kisses good night. Programed the puppet, who stands for the fight. From rags to riches, branded by leaches, who control the gold that feed your soul. Hollowed out the person, for who you us to be, to stand naked in public, and swear you are free. Private parts all over the news. A million freaks glued to the tube. Sick and twisted, some go too far. Guess that’s alright, part of being a star.
For what’s the purpose to lose your soul? Fifteen minutes, is it worth the toll? A porn star life, and screaming fans, admired from afar, a wet dream star. Success at hand, now what’s your plan, a real life man, won’t take the stand. Stigma is real, a fantasy distill. A well-dressed man would never swallow the pill. A whore is a whore, in reality score, something real men keep on the floor. So stay in your cage, the mirror been paid, reflecting like OZ, but just a mirage. No morals at heart, but you think you're real smart. Money in hand, just to stand grand. A dollar or two, divide the few, whose pay in fame, relinquish future gain. Banded for life. Nobody’s wife. Then your 12 year old stumbles on life. You think it's right, your kids has to pay the price?
The doors rendering, family and soul, is a choice of morality that you have to uphold. Going around, giving it away for free. Closing the doors, to presidential lures, the bright blue shores, the soccer mom soul, and a heart unfold. Don’t understand the gift of intimacy. A bond of love, don’t fit any glove. It’s respect of self that divide the wealth. It’s the treasure of your soul, worth its weight in gold, platinum free, a miracle to be.
Tears restrained, because you're big and tall, ego so big, how can you fall? The cries an echo, a hollowing soul, echoing screams as the night unfold. Strength and power, you stand real tall. A million bucks, how can you fall? For what’s the illusion, if not your soul. The thing that makes us worth more than gold. But when trapped inside, a PR mess, living a lie can bring on the stress. You tell yourself, you reason it out. Against history, who has left no doubt. But the fool for fame, an illustrated brain, a corporate fix, exploiting the niche. The big bull whip, on a slave ship, don’t need a gun, because stupidity is fun. Developed young minds, give them piece of the vine, a toxic trip, thinking they got a grip. Whisper you're here, bending your ear, switch your name, and dress the lame. Shining and new, a world package view, bring on the slew, they are coming for you.
Didn’t know fame was such a big strain, that every moment is spent chasing the fame. No rest for the weary, or time for love, no self in existence, no tears for the weak. Everything tied, to a selfish wild ride. So far out, you have no pride. In it to get rich and live the dream. Family and love, was part of the scheme. But everything past, left in the dark, unresolved emotions and a heavy heart. Tears on your pillow alone in the night. A bottle, new plan, awake in your hand. Pills to snooze, to snuff the blues. A party all night, to hide the fright. No matter what you do, it just ant right. All around you, lovers at hand. Even a few disturbances, because of their man. The admiration flowing, lovely smiles. But the plastered smile is running wild. Can't wait to be over, to get out of there. Fake smiles, and all dolled up hair. A reflection of you, a million or two. A mirror of self, running from you.
Nowhere to turn, just feeling the burn, the short tempered fits, the frustration, no wits. The fighting, the pain, the tears you restrain, a puppet still strong, upholding the wrong. Fifteen minutes of fame, they give you the reign, a king to a rook, checkmate on the books. Behind the lie, big corporate eye, the American bail, to stop the economical derail. Millions of bucks, to the banks that sucked, who cashed in, when loans crashed in. A republican joke, a genius stroke, to continue the decay, of a young mind astray. Prices through the roof, and struggle all around. But you're playing house, because you have the crown. Because in the game, it’s sink or drown. To high up there, in this small little world. A point to be, but for want, can’t see? Filled with philosophy, but no real moral code. What will you do when your act get old? No education, and not a friend in the world. Reduced to size, because all the fake lovers have cried. Made a billion, but only ten percent in the bank. The contracts over, you find you've been yanked. Ego screaming, they don't know who you are. A million fans, but they left the bar. Everyone at home. The real life people, with family and friends, a life out the trends, and in it to win. Where human beings grow, cultivating the flow, got family and friends, and a lover full of sins. Where the look of eyes, meet in surprise, and harness a goal where true love unfolds, who’s happy and free, loved and can see, without a doubt, it was worth the route.