In war, by illness, or with a lie
I squeal from the pain that I hide
From the secrets in my soul I confide
In my bed I toss and turn side to side
Pillow soaked with the tears from my eyes
I hear a whisper in my ear and I sigh
The voice of death calling time on my ride
Yet, I stand, though with fear I deny
If I must live to see the light, must kill the night
As morning creeps in again, I wonder when
My troubled world might return to haunt me then.
Dedicated to the secret struggle with addiction.
© Raphael Shonibare, 2018