(for the underpaid, overwatched,
and underestimated)
They gave me a 1.5% raise
as if I wouldn’t notice the
extra weight of my silence,
as if the decimal point could
polish the edge
of my exhaustion.
1.5% for the missed lunches,
the nervous system collapses,
the way I carried their chaos
like it was my birthright.
1.5% for every time I said,
“This system is not built for us,”
and they nodded, but
changed nothing.
1.5% of a system where
surveillance is still
the primary tool of control,
descended from chattel slavery,
rebranded as public service,
repackaged in case notes
and compliance plans.
They say “accountability;”
I hear the clink of old chains.
But here’s what they
didn’t count on:
I know my worth
in whole numbers.
I am not your fraction.
I am not your quiet.
I am not your compliance.
I take my brilliance,
my breath,
my boundaries and
I cash them in
for freedom.
