Crumpled Bills

Crumpled bills in the pocket, dreams in the gutter,

Spilled ink on the paper, truth starts to sputter.

Streets whisper secrets, concrete keeps score,

Every crack in the pavement, another closed door.

They say hustle feeds the belly, but hunger stays fed,

Ghosts of ambition still sleep in my bed.

Mind's a chessboard, pawns get slain,

But kings fall hardest when they play the wrong game.

Crumpled bills, shattered thrills,

Hopes like smoke, chasing the stills.

Crumpled bills, life’s sharp drills,

I keep climbing, but the air chills.

Pigeons dance on wires, city’s pulse in their wings,

Streetlight halos crown the hustlers and kings.

Broken payphones echo, voices long gone,

Static in the receiver hums a sad song.

I scribble rhymes on receipts, maps of my escape,

Dodging traps laid in alleys, ducking cityscape.

The clock don’t tick, it sneers with a grin,

Every second a battle, every loss a sin.

Crumpled bills, shattered thrills,

Hopes like smoke, chasing the stills.

Crumpled bills, life’s sharp drills,

I keep climbing, but the air chills.