Once climbed past twenty peaks, in a blink, clung to the edge,
The downtrend slipped as smooth as oil, plunging straight down without a glance back.
First broke eighteen with no support, then slid through ten like flowing water,
Eight, five rushed by in a blur, the three-dollar mark lost in an instant.
While the majors turned red, it alone stayed green, stubbornly bullish against the tide,
Two, one—accelerated fall, account shrinking, tears hard to hold.
Consensus hyped to the heavens, promises were just empty talk,
The candlestick chart plunged into a bottomless pit, not even a shadow of a re

In this life, I never dared to touch poetic lines, yet forced by Pi’s price, I am driven to compose.
Six years of infatuation fell with the price, all my helplessness poured into these verses.
I do not seek perfect rhythm or structure, only to express the bitterness and lingering resentment.
If not for such misery on the path of coins, why would a commoner write of sorrow?
I was once an ordinary man with little taste for ink, but six years of Pi’s crash have driven me mad.
So many hardships I wish to speak yet swallow, so many wounds too heavy for words.
These lines are rough, lacking in rhyme

$PI Pi Coin claims to be a thousandfold bull, but in reality it keeps sliding down every day, dropping step by step without looking back, leaving retail investors who bought at the top crying their eyes out!