Don't Get Too Attached

We throw away our coins and metals
While bills float into starving bank accounts like flower petals.
A small gain for a large amount
of money that I don’t care to count.
Fiscal claustrophobia: I get diagnosed.
I try not to get attached, but there’s nothing I miss most,
Than when the brilliant autumn leaves turn to paper.
None of the birds understand this type of nature.
And centered on the front, the honored ghosts,
whose paper hearts stop any toasts.

This metamorphosis might go on for infinity,
but what’s the price of one's dignity?