Digital cash
When beggars know better than to ask
Any spare change
The circulation long cut,
barely any copper remains.
The court is paperless
The new king is contactless
and the crumbled royal mint is a haunted house.
When highstreet banks exist only in memory
Or Wikipedia entries
Like so many things, creepingly superceded;
how they clung for dear life
as the old reasons faded.
The new blood hold their banks in the palms of their hands.
When the last bundle is burnt
replaced by numbers
rarely seen; only on screens
Who will mourn for cold, hard cash?
Who will cry for bloody money?
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