Madame

Madame, can you hear?
The tales told about you, and words spread
making you seem dismal.
The spread of lies about you,
seem to float above your head.

Madame, can you taste?
Caviar and Margaritas fill your social life,
but you decline the offer,
and instead dine on bread and water.
Why defy tradition?

Madame, can you feel?
The gaze that's always towards you,
watching grace and mere perfection.
Your kind is of small selection,
so why linger in the shadows?

Madame, can you smell?
The money that falls at your feet,
if only you would choose.
What have you to lose,
but a life of little impurities?

Madame, can you speak?
Why are you so silent
while those around you talk?
Your listening skills are haunting,
but your words eternally locked.

Madame, can you see?
Royalty lies about you,
and you seem to have no care.
You walk as though a ghost.
Oh, Madame, will you live?