By: Shah Daniel
Wandering beneath the sky, seeking fortune’s gleam,
At 3 a.m., sleepless—no rhythm in betwee—
Reality or dream, blurred in September’s air,
My thoughts linger, vivid as memories I bear.
No miracles await—just Satan’s cruel disguise,
Beyond the stars and darkness, no turning point in sight,
Not a fresh beginning, but a nightmare to ensnare,
A déjà vu, a fake path I’m destined to wear.
How I wish this dream could guide me, show me light,
As I stare at 3 a.m. into the endless night,
Hoping for a hand to lift me from despair,
To understand myself, beyond this shame I wear.
After all, I’m bound by failure’s heavy chain,
Searching for release—some meaning in the pain.
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