Hey, I'm Gonna Get You Too! Another One Bites the Dust 🗑
Here lies the hope, now turned to dust,
Of refunds promised, built on trust.
The IRS, a maze of dread,
Where dreams of spending lie cold instead.
Where's My Refund? the weary plea,
Echoed in vain, eternally.
A phantom portal, screen aglow,
Offering answers, moving slow.
Filed with fervor, early on,
Hoping riches would be drawn.
Bills to conquer, debts to mend,
A financial helping hand to lend.
But weeks turned to months, a silent sting,
As progress bars refused to swing.
Still processing, the coded phrase,
A cruel reminder of bygone days.
The phone rings unanswered, voices cold,
A story often, sadly told.
Further review, the cryptic line,
Leaving taxpayers to just repine.
No vacation, no shopping spree,
Just endless waiting, patiently.
The refund lingers, out of reach,
A distant shore, upon life's beach.
So mourn this hope, now laid to rest,
Another victim of the audit test.
The IRS, a mighty hand,
That shapes finances across the land.
Let this be a lesson, stark and clear,
Prepare for delays, year after year.
For in the realm of taxes due,
Expect the worst, it might come true.
And though the refund's journey's done,
Remember battles fought and won,
Or lost, perhaps, to bureaucratic might,
In the fading glow of hope's dim light.
