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.
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