I can’t sleep
Nor can I weep
If sadness were a grey cloud
I am the bottomless lake from which it arose

I miss your laughter, your mirth
Like dawn misses a birdsong
On a cold concrete city street
Before it fades away

Each time I burn pain into you
I burn pain into me; but if I
Were to not bite and hurt you so deeply
How would you continue to think of me?

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.