Brokey

The wallet aches, a hollow shell,

Where once a cushion of comfort fell.

Each penny spent, a fleeting friend,

Leaving want that knows no end.

A heavy heart, a furrowed brow,

The weight of failure, hangs somehow.

Manhood measured, not by might,

But by the balance, lost from sight.

But hold, there's strength in this lament,

A chance to turn, a new ascent.

Creative fires, though dimmed and low,

Can spark anew, and brighter grow.

Let's find a path, a different road,

Where skills can bloom, and burdens unload.

Not blame, but hope, will be our guide,

To mend the purse, and cast off the tide.