The world envied her,
From their eyes she had a perfect life –
fame, name and money,
that could buy,
anything she desired.

But no one knew,
How she felt,
How her soul was caged,
Like a brig in a stowaway brigade.

For the money,
and the supercilious world,
that surrounded her,
Couldn’t buy her,
The freedom of a carefree lark,
That she wished many times,
Crying alone in the dark.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah