I signed no letter,
gave no speech.
But somewhere between
Monday and meaning-
I left.

My hands still type,
but my mind knocks off
at the first forced smile.
The emails echo in hollowness,
my ''regards''
are just borrowed words
from a soul that stopped caring.

They think I'm still here.
Because I show up.
But presence is not participation.
I've mastered the art
of looking busy
while building my escape in silence.

They didn't notice
when I stopped pouring ideas-
only cared I still delivered the
minimum.
Praise is scarce,
but deadlines are sharp
and always on time.

My dreams used to have color
but now
it's grayscale spreadsheets
and KPI nightmares.

No exit interview needed.
The truth wouldn't fit
in HR's form.

I'm gone.
Even though I'm still
right here.