Princess Poem by Joseph Anthony Montefusco

Shining brightly through the night
An image of beauty lights the skies
They call her Princess

Thousands of lovers have passed through her lips
And through her veins
Kisses like syringes pierce her soul

The epitomy of perfection personified in her eyes
Yes, those beautiful eyes
Shot with blood and stinging tears
They call her Princess

With a carefully curved body
That's as tall as she wants it to be
Depending on what she's on

Deep within the center of Central Park
She awaits to inspire anyone
Who urges to feel great and get higher

She's as vulnerable as a new born babe
Whenever she takes a hit
Whether lighting up or lying down
They call her Princess

Hers is a life filled with strife and complications
Lost lovers, lost family, lost years
She knows what is to be alone

Always fending for herself
She'll do anything to keep that high
She's even taken someone's life to save her own

Yea, the picture of perfection
On park benches or posters
But regardless of who she may really be
They call her Princess.