This is not poetry. This is economic law. A rebellion wearing the mask of a book. Every scroll is a charge filed. Every reader becomes an accountant of their own survival. Healing is optional. Compensation is law.

A system of emotional economics. Every wound becomes a ledger. Every act of self-restraint becomes a credit. This is not therapy — it’s accounting for the invisible labor that built you.
Women, workers, and creatives who carried entire systems on invisible labor. Burned-out achievers told composure was “professionalism. ”Visionaries ready to convert injustice into income. Anyone tired of donating brilliance to broken institutions
Those seeking comfort, not consequence. Those who want validation, not valuation. Those who heal without reconciling the theft. Those who believe silence is grace instead of unpaid labor.