The Debt of Goodness
On the holy, bitter art of leaving rooms that were designed to starve you.

there is no
ceremony
for the moment
you realize
they aren't
clinging to you
out of love
but because
you are the only thing
keeping them
off the floor.
they call it
friendship.
i call it
unpaid
labor.
jealousy
is a slow rot.
it is the way
they congratulate you
with teeth
instead of
lips.
it is the way
they wait for
your light to flicker
just so they can
feel
relevant
in the dark.
we stay
because we think
our goodness
can cure
their hunger.
but selfish people
are a
bottomless well.
you could
drop your entire soul
down their throat
and they would
still ask
why you
stopped
singing.
so
i am
dropping
the rope.
let them
hit the bottom.
let the echo
be the only thing
that listens
to them now.
my exit
is not a tragedy.
it is
a debt
being settled.
i am
the truth
they can no longer
afford
to sit with.
About the Creator
Anuroop
I write because the truth is bitter, but the soul is hungry. My work is a mirror of grace and scars. I turn memoirs into maps and poetry into a space where we stop pretending. Let’s look closer together and find the truth in the journey.



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