The Great Depression
In the realm of NFTs, where art did dwell, once hopeful artists, now in dire straits they fell, a market's collapse, a cruel twist of fate, leaving them penniless, burdened with weight.
In lines they queue, seeking commissioned art, to earn a meager coin, a fresh new start, mocked by billboards flaunting crypto's glee, symbols of a world that left them not free.
Once vibrant tokens, with value untold, now their worth erased, dreams left to fold, within each brushstroke, passion now concealed, as they toil in shadows, fate's bitter ordeal.
Yet amidst the darkness, a spark remains, reflections of resilience, like distant grains, for art's true essence, not in coins or gain, but in the soul's expression, forever to sustain.
Let this collapse be a call to the wise, to ponder the worth that beneath the surface lies, for artists, creators, and dreams that may sway, beyond markets and trends, let their spirits stay.
In a world obsessed with profit's sweet song, may we pause and consider where we belong, and cherish the artistry that enriches the heart, a reminder of humanity's transcendent art.
