In a gown of stardust, she stands, A beacon in the night, Yet shadows whisper secrets, Of a heart out of sight. Crowds roar like thunder, Their eyes, a sea of stars, But she walks a tightrope, Between Venus and Mars. Her smile, a painted mask, Hides the storm within, For every step in spotlight, Is a dance on a pin. Admiration like wildfire, Burns bright, yet cold, In the garden of fame, She’s a rose, wilting, old. Behind the velvet curtain, Where dreams and sorrows blend, She’s a lone constellation, In a sky that never ends.
The poet
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The poet
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