Every day I read headlines that hit like riddles with no answers.
Billions sent to cities.
Grants announced.
Budgets passed.
But still, no one can seem to say where the money lands.
And the hood? Still hungry. Still hoping. Still hustling just to break even.
At the same time, we got millionaires throwing cash at distractions
ice on the wrist, poker tables in the sky, strip clubs like confession booths.
They preach "hard work" to the poor,
while they pour millions into showing how far removed, they are from the struggle.
Now look I’m not here to tell grown folks how to spend money they bled for.
I know what the grind costs.
But what cuts deep is knowing how real the fight is for the everyday people
the artist with dreams but no budget,
the delivery worker with kids to feed,
The student making brilliance stretches between two paychecks.
This isn’t about handouts.
It’s about focus.
It’s about seeing how money moves and asking:
“Why do we spend like we forgot who we are?”
We feed corporations like temples,
bowing our wallets at their altars
while walking past brothers and sisters stuck in cycles that were never meant to end.
We're passionate consumers,
but indifferent investors when it comes to our people.
It’s wild.
We’ll spend thousands on clothes to wear once,
but not a few dollars to give someone a clean place to sleep.
We say “they should work harder”
like we forgot the system isn’t built the same for everyone.
And let’s talk systems.
Federal prisons profiting off the same people they trap.
Cheap snacks sold for commissary cash that came from the inmates themselves.
That’s exploitation dressed in uniform and red tape.
That's capitalism fed by trauma.
And out here?
We get hit from every angle.
Flood our blocks with guns then lock us up for holding.
Liquor on every corner then arrest us for sipping in the wrong spot.
Legal weed is now booming but some are still serving time over the same plant.
This isn’t law.
This is theater.
And the tickets aren’t free.
Let me break it down plain:
This society will sell your pain back to you.
Your voice, your art, your culture it’s all marketable, as long as you don’t own it.
So, what do we do?
We start with pennies.
Not because it solves everything,
but because it means something.
It means we haven’t gone numb.
It means we see each other.
It means, maybe, the next generation won’t inherit this same cold detachment.
You earned your paper spend it how you want.
But if you can drop ten stacks on distractions,
you can drop ten dollars on humanity.
Not to save the world
but to prove we haven’t lost our soul in the process.
Because in the end, real wealth isn’t measured by what you keep.
It’s measured by what you’re willing to give
when no one’s looking.