After the Deposit

The money landed and I felt no relief,

watched the balance climb

and still felt like a thief,

still felt the old grief

that doesn't listen to numbers,

that knows no relief.

I refreshed the screen,

watched the deposit clear,

and the panic was still here,

the familiar fear

that money doesn't answer,

that currency can't make disappear.

My mother asked if I was happy.

I didn't know what to say.

How do I tell her that having

doesn't take away

the weight I carry,

the broke that stays?

The bill will come due,

the panic will return,

there's a lesson I keep learning

but never really learn:

that money is just paper,

that fear doesn't burn.