Pepe / Wrapped Ether on BASE (0x76Fc8DbF2022EE75612cb74ec80caF6b3ccFfb23) in USD forum
He croaked at dawn from nine-six-two,
A shaky reed, the world askew.
Toward nine-two-five he slid with fear,
The weak floor cracked — the drop drew near.
He tumbled down to seven-eight low,
A fleeting bounce, a brief shadow.
But gravity pulled with harsher tune,
To seven-two’s dark watery gloom.
If panic struck and whales gave chase,
He’d plunge to six-eight’s forsaken place.
And deeper still, if hearts all fled,
Six-five would mark the market’s bed.
Yet frogs are tricksters, born to fight,
They leap through storms to find the light.
From seven-six, they climb once more,
To eight-five’s gleam and safer shore.
At last they rest near nine-two high,
A meme-born prince beneath the sky.
From darkest depths the lesson’s clear:
A fall is fierce, but hope is near. by C. Huffman
The frog awakes with a glimmering grin,
The market stirs and draws him in.
From candle’s spark to trader’s cheer,
His path is marked but never clear.
He dips at dawn to nine-seven low,
Where quiet waters softly flow.
Yet whispers rise, the crowd takes flight,
And PEPE climbs by evening light.
Toward ten-six high he leaps with glee,
A meme-born prince for all to see.
But in between, the frog will play,
Nine-eight to ten-four — his dance today.