By 3 Am

she wasn't there finally got used to it the idea to live is to suffer scared of making mistakes being an outcast i keep it on the low so much trouble in my world haste and stale down here i rely on poetry to pass the time alot's at stake wanna wake up and read blurry in my eyes i go to sleep dream of home i see hope in a dream before 3am there ain't no fading from my memory i visualise holding my newly born niece Kolimba's tree blossoms I say a prayer for Tuyate to rest in peace i've survived the pit.