𝗕𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗼𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗶𝘅𝗲𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀

A poem, by Jason Hodlers

For thousands of years,

Through blood, sweat and tears,

Humanity labored and grew.

We traded the fruits

Of hard-won pursuits,

When desires matched between two.

But then we soon found,

From deep in the ground,

Metal the color of honey.

With this we could trade

For anything made.

We called this invention "money".

This tool now in hand,

We tended the land,

And bought and sold with our neighbor.

This medium was

So precious because

It had to be mined with labor.

But as nations spread,

And wars made men dead,

Those in thrones were tempted by greed.

Not much could be spent,

Or on journeys sent,

To lands far away in great need.

A scheme was then made

For people to trade

Their hard-earned money for paper.

More easy to hold

Than silver or gold,

But its value soon would taper.

In '71,

Like out of a gun,

Nixon cut the dollar from gold.

From this single change

Would life rearrange,

To be worse for all, young and old.

All prices increased,

And savings were least

For those who were greatest in need.

And they in control

Could reach their great goal

To enslave and make the world bleed.

What was to be done

When father and son

Cared not for a time but today?

All manner of waste,

And unyielding haste,

Ruled over us, blocking our way.

Then someone unknown,

And with humble tone,

Shared a plan to put it all right.

Eight pages explained

A money ordained

To free us from our awful plight.

Nobody controls

Or sets their own goals

For this money that all can hold.

We each can rely

On its scarce supply,

And know that its truth will be told.

But some saw a chance

-- Their greed to advance --

To make some new coins of their own.

Each one of them fail,

For all of them pale

Next to the one harder than stone.

The future is ₿right,

For hope is in sight,

Regardless of all that's amiss.

For whether it's war,

Poverty and more,

We can say "Bitcoin fixes this!"