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Writer's pictureKundai Chabvamuperu

4am poem

I wake up at night screaming,

With beads of sweat beaming,

Beaming from my forehead,

And I look like a wet showerhead,

I stand and sit and begin to ponder,

About what lies yonder,

As every time I lay my head down,

I dream,

Dreams of uncertainty,

Dreams based on my vanity,

Reminding me of my past sinning,

Which to me seemed like winning,

But now all I have are nightmares,

And my nightmares are playbacks of all that I have done,

All the battles that I have won,

All the battles that I have lost,

All played in random order, bz,

As if they were being arranged my a toddler.


So finally I lay my head again on my pillow and close my eyes

And try to dream again,

I dream bright beautiful skies,

But I also see people's lies,

Lies that are being fed to others everyday,

And are described as being justified,

Yet stink and are rotten as a corpse mummified,

And in the midst of all the deception,

I can see my own reflection,

And it seems to be fading away,

Because it knows,

It knows the truth,

The truth that our actions were made because of selfish intent,

In order to pursue an unnecessary goal,

One that yielded nothing but a lump of coal,

Yet I can't help to wonder if maybe I can't be redeemed,

I have raped, killed and I stole,

All hoping that one of these things would feel this hole,

But the emptiness still creeps up,

And takes me up, up and away,

And like a feather in a river I let it take me on it's way.


So I pull myself from my dreams,

Only to wake and stare at the clock

And watch it as it goes tick tock,

It's almost 4 o'clock,

And I am reminded that I am alone with my thoughts,

With my stomach tied in knots,

I begin to hear the abyss call me using my first name,

Telling me that things will never be the same,

And soon we will reach the end of the game,

And I will finally have to accept my fate,

And not hesitate,

Since this my destiny,

The one thing that I can't run away from.


I wake up again,

Only to realise that it was a dream in a dream,

Or at least I hoped it was,

So I try to go back to sleep,

But alas sleep does not come,

And I am afraid to indulge myself in it,

Because I can see the demon on the other side,

The demon of reality and past actions,

Calling me to dream world,

Beckoning me with my first and last name,

So here I am, sitting in my bed,

Unrested and unwired,

Angry and uninspired,

Tortured and tormented,

Quietly praying for the sins I should have repented.




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