Final Hook

Thank you for holding
thank you for waiting
while my life unthreads

You want your system perfect
I’m trying not to lose my head

I’m just an ID on a schedule
in a chair that won’t sit right
patchworking other people’s chaos
while mine rots out of sight

End of shift
I hang the headset on its hook
like hanging dead

Walk past rows of tired faces
lit by cheap blue din
on the bus home I stay quiet
throat too raw to even speak

Having spent another eight hours
fixing worlds
I don’t get to keep