3am the hour of few

Victor Wuna no dey sleep 😏 his reply," If we sleep wetin we gain" well it's facts The streets quiet, the world dreams, but kings don’t. Every hour we steal from sleep is another chain broken, another throne closer. 3 AM feels like eternity the silence whispers who’s weak, who’s hungry. Generation races, but most run blind; age climbs, results rot like forgotten seeds. Fear hisses in the shadows, doubt gnaws at bones, yet some hearts burn anyway. The night knows our ambition, the darkness tests our will. No applause, no followers, just sweat, prayers, and blood-stained notebooks of plans. Brutal truth: destiny doesn’t knock; it bleeds into the hands of the relentless. Sleep? Only the defeated rest 😪 only the ones with crowns dare to slumber