This jittery-glittery
all in my jewelry,
at first I cherish it
but then like my cutlery,
I’m done with it already.
Attractive like strawberry,
illegal like burglary;
describing wealth in poetry,
the sweet words are flattery.
There’s gold in my gallery,
I earned them like salary.
Riches locked up in treasury,
‘tis practical slavery.
With jiggery-pokery
I win hearts like lottery;
indeed I got mastery
of all sorts of trickery.
I’m living in luxury,
my wealth is a mystery.
My love for my diary
matches my hatred for treachery,
betrayal and misery.
I remain anonymous, unknown identity
and confuse myself with these jargon like sorcery.

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