imagine the feeling you've never felt yet
not the last pump, the next one.
the green you haven't seen,
the morning it all finally clicks.
Hodly already knows it's coming.
he held through red,
he held through green,
he held through the long quiet in between,
not hoping, but knowing — it's coming!
everyone else watched the chart,
Hodly picked a flower.
the good times aren't something he waits for — they're something he already feels coming.
the holders