#Trump100Days

The Crypto Poem by Sub_ag

Crypto trading, oh what a ride,

One minute you’re rich, the next you’ve died!

You wake up to a tweet from Elon Musk,

And suddenly, your portfolio’s gone up in a thrust.

You check your coins, with eyes wide and bright,

Bitcoin’s up—should I sell or hold tight?

But wait! The price dips, like a roller coaster,

Just when you thought you were a crypto poster!

You panic and sell, then check it again,

Bitcoin’s back at its all-time high—what a pain!

You curse your luck, and curse the market,

But your “buy the dip” mantra? Ha! Don’t start it!

You read the news: “Crypto’s the future, they say!”

But your portfolio’s looking like yesterday’s hay.

You blame the whales, the bots, the fake news,

“If only I’d listened, I’d be sipping champagne, not blues!”

You follow the charts, like a true trader,

But the candles are flickering, looking like a waiter.

Up, down, up, down—what’s going on here?

Is this a market, or a game of musical chairs?

You’re feeling brave, so you stake some coins,

But the liquidity pool’s now full of joins!

The yield’s so high, you think you’ve hit gold,

But then your funds lock up, and the network is cold.

DeFi, NFTs—what’s next on the list?

You buy into projects that barely exist!

You’re told, “It’s a community, you’re early, my friend,”

But the token crashes and you’re at the bitter end.

You hold on to your tokens, hoping for the best,

But the market’s so wild, it’s a constant test.

You’re watching the charts like a hawk on a hunt,

But at this point, you’re just following a stunt.

You get a notification: “New token launch!”

And you think, “Why not? What’s the worst that could be?”

It’s launched, it’s mooning, you’re feeling elite,

But before you know it, it’s a rug-pull retreat.

The FOMO hits hard, the fear of missing out,

You chase the pumps, while others just shout.

You’re in a Telegram group, full of “whales” and “kings,”

But all you’re left with is rug-pull stings.

to read more check comment $BTC