How will I die?
In war, in peace, or in a lie
I squeal from the pain that I hide
My secret, to 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 high
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 again.
Dedicated to the secret struggle of addiction.
© Raphael Shonibare, 2019
