When changing, does one always have to break?
Or can I be minted
Coined
Freshly made to make
Sense/cents

Do the hands I touch determine my shine?
Or should I worry more about the value I possess
How I can always count on self
And those that truly add up

Do I think too much?
About seeing the flip side of things
About chances that are out of my hands
About taking chances

I've never really liked when people call out my tails/tales
The arrogance of my big heads
The way I always make folk feel like I've given even odds
When really I gave rigged results

I once yearned to be picked up
To be an illusion of luck
To be a penny pinched by a person seeking profit/prophet

I've wasted people's time and money
By holding onto what I've lost
By trying to convince myself
Through their point of purchase
By being unwilling to count
My blessings

This life of lack has been my problem
This denial of itchy palms
I'm learning my job is to collect myself
To pick myself up
To value my own two cents

I gotta stop trying to pick pockets
In the midst of a change shortage
I must believe in what I was molded to be
And stop breaking so much
Because good investments always bring the best interest
And love don't cost a thang