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.