tribute to Madam mousse

Madam mousse is a walking fetish.
battery on a sidestreet; the phone in someone's lawn
she did not want to familarise herself with Mr.
of what feels like a screw driving in the bone.
what it must feel like
All that taunting solitude,
Contented to be alone.
Contented? Alone?
I can't see how, madam mousse
is comfort in your gripping solitude?

then drawing knots to release her soul
she had been sucked through
centuries of tradition
had dreams of a nuclear family
candy house
of posterity, of thriving generations

what then is vanity of youth to you, madam mousse?
Capitulating to the earth,
Attesting to the riddles being solved;
A dying world's fears have been realized
no more of such phantasmagoria, alright?

Lost heart crying torrents
Crying tears for someone else's pain
Life inside her was choking her soul.

Madam mousse,
Are you Cinderella?
she dwindles her time at home alone
And no one ever calls.

Her life is sweet a fairy tale
That never gets any ending
She wears her ball gowns and paints her face.
But is now tattered, in remnants.

A girl in lace and frills
Keeps on waiting.
Like an angel fades away,
A wish too soon forgotten.

No pangs of love,
Time frozen in the mind.
Waiting for that dole of love,
The truth hiding in a million lies.

Madam mousse says, “life is warped”.
What will break that monotony
to assauge her uncertainties?

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