She had a certain glow
Or so some people said
But what they didn’t know
The glow was orange-red
As long as she had butane
And a rock that she could smoke
She couldn’t feel her pain
At least until she was broke
Then she learned to take
New levels of abuse
As long as she could make
Enough to buy some juice
She had a certain glow
As haunting as the moon
Now she’s just a cold Jane Doe
Departed much too soon.
Are You Reading Me?
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