Debt
Debt is the weight you carry in your chest,
not your wallet.
It’s the 3 a.m. dread,
the voice that says, “You’ll never escape this.”
It’s red letters stacking
like gravestones on the doormat.
It’s pretending at the checkout
that your card didn’t just decline.
Debt is a prison
where the bars are interest rates,
where dreams get sold for rent,
and payday comes pre-promised to pain.
They don’t tell you it owns your sleep —
wakes you with cold sweats
and keeps you up counting
every mistake you’ve ever made.
Debt doesn’t knock.
It breaks in,
sits at your table,
and eats your last meal
while you pretend it’s fine.
And still… you smile,
tell your kids, “We’re okay.”
But inside,
you’re screaming
because there’s nothing left to give.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
