A Victim of Fickle Fame's Lost Love

What a beautiful face that haunts the screen,
Bathing in the searing, studio light.
Her eyes, duly bright, that captivate
Yet when she cries, she cries celluloid tears;
Harsh, acetate, strangely false.

But the audience does not care for realism
In the dark, quivering voyeurs
Escape from ourselves with this screen actress,
See her tossed on the seas of glamour
Inimitable, existing only in our idealism.

A blazing star on a rising stage,
She is elevated for all to see.
Until; scandals, revelations, kiss-and-tell,
And a career comes ripping down
Like shining, nylon ladders.