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⠸⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣷⡀
⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇
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⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟
⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀⢹⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣦⣀⣀⣀⣠⣾⣷⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⡟⠀
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Bought skins and sold, and sold.
He’d trade all day,
Then drift away,
Forgetting the games he once told.
"One more flip, just one more deal!"
His wallet would grow, his luck real.
But with every trade,
His time was delayed—
And the games? He’d never feel.
He'd stay up too late,
Trading skins at a rate,
And when he'd go to bed,
It was half past eight.