Fact!
Zebras can’t sleep alone.
In a way I know how they feel. Every New Years Eve’s night, the hood turns into the Serengeti
and I’m the zebra waiting for my zebra friend named silence so i can feel secure enough to go to sleep.
Cause when the glock strikes 12, the ferocious bullets escape their caves, pouncing through the air, hunting for prey so they can send them to the destination where prayers lay. This is a daily fear living where i live
but on December 31st its the only time where its a promised flat line when the countdown meets its deadline, so that's why I wait it out, don’t sleep alone until i’m accompanied by the zebra of silence.
When she came into my life, she made me feel whole.
So whole that our love created a zebra of its own that guarded us through the night. Our love was so strong we slept through the annual running of predators that i usually wait for silence for until i can relax.
When she left she took the sound of silence that existed before her. Now every night I'm accompanied by the sounds of the memories we shared. Even though those sounds aren’t as vicious as a bullet’s roar in the middle of the night,
it is just as crippling to this wounded zebra heart of mine that stripes are black and blue now instead of black and white.
The sounds that used to scare me are the ones i take comfort in cause it beats the sounds of her voice occasionally creeping into my conscious. With the sound of predators roaming at night it reminds me of a time that i was alone and had no problem keeping that way.
A time where depression never knew me on a first name basis.
A time where I'm just a zebra waiting for another zebra to go to sleep.