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Killed at the Hands of Spotlight
To be Kim, before Kardashian
The penultimate night of the kidnapping at Manhattan’s hands
Loving what I’m doing, not doing what they love
Camera slashes are not yet attempts to hunt
The water I have is not yet “sparkling, with slices of lime”,
for the world to dissect
Now, burnt navy fills the once clear horizon
Having become a jungle for others to inhabit,
I now hide behind the woods of what used to be home
To live each night without sleep
Only to be awoken by my coffee stained shirt.
A party that burns — to the bone.
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In the Creative Writing class I’m taking we had a unique prompt to use every phrase from a list we made in the piece for the day. I wrote the first line and continued to write from the perspective of a celebrity (not anyone in specific) to tell the story of how life changes before and after fame kills you.