Counting Coins

My latest check, a crumpled-up dream,

a paper so thin, it unravels the seam.

The numbers stare back, mocking my fate,

like promises whispered, now crumbling weight.

Each penny I count feels heavy with doubt,

when rent’s just a number, but hope’s fading out.

I work for a future that flickers and fades,

this wage like a ghost, in shadows it wades.