Hollow Riches

A paycheck arrives, crisp and unturned,

but like ashes it settles, in pockets it burns.

Standing in line, the coffee's a weight,

each dollar I spend feels like tempting fate.

Hands in my wallet, the leather worn thin,

like promises broken, the empty within.

It glimmers and shines, yet I feel no glow,

it buys empty moments, not memories to sow.

I search for the joy in this currency flow,

but hollow the laughter, each transaction's slow.

What riches I gather, yet still I am bare,

wealth can’t fill spaces, just shadows laid there.