Herein lies Sylvia Plath's Guide
To becoming a Famous Poet via Suicide
Step one, marry a male poet who is already successful
His success continues to grow and he makes sales by the bucketful
You and he argue constantly about his success and fame
And meanwhile you've stopped writing, so where is your claim?
Finally he leaves you and you are all alone with your thinking
You publish a book while your husband is out partying and drinking
Your book is selling, you are the belle of the ball
And then one day you decide to end it all
You sealed the doors with wet towels and stuck your head in the oven
They found you dead, thirty years old...
A beautiful poet with everything to live for...
They publish your book posthumously, but what was the point?
Oh yes, fame. Some things are not worth dying for.