In the dark corner of the house a taunting drills.
Dawn's pale light creeps through cracked-wall spill.
My pockets echo, coins a meager chime.
"Walang pera" is heard as a whisper through this weary time.

In the late hours of the night,
I sat and ponder, weary and torn.
Even with a father's might,
in the shadows anxiety is born.

The house's beams hold that haunting plea.
It is a constant ramming of what can't be.
Bills mountain high, it's shadow cast.
Worries like storm clouds that gather fast.

As a hill of bills grew high,
the lady's worries fills the air.
Yet she remains silent without a sigh
amidst the burden so glare.

A father needs to be a steadfast rock,
to appear to the family like a brave Sherlock.
I project an image of a stronghold and shelter in the storm
but my spirit feels empty and worn.

Let other people chase their empty dreams.
Our wealth is a love that flows like streams.
Although money problems linger here,
let our steadfast love remove all fears.