How will I die?


How will I die?

In war, in sickness, or in a lie

I squeal from the pain that I hide

From the 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 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 of addiction.

© Raphael Shonibárè 2018