A POEM: Rusty Welded Edges of Love (Nigeria)

Like a tree in drought,

I'm only more stubborn and angry

But still thirsty and lanky

Like the Egyptian pyramid...

I'm a product of the peoples 

Pain and anguish

Also of their prayers, Lamentations and their

Unfulfilled wish.

I'm lead by my fail 

And cursed by my success

And for every passing day,

I can only sulk and wonder,

What next? 

There's a glimpse of hope afar off,

But closer here is the hangman and his rope

And if I die of his judgement,

Then there will no longer be me

My North, My South, My East, My West

Will gladly munch on the spoils.

Maybe birthing an Arewa Republic,

An Oduduwa community,

A Niger Delta State

And a Biaifran City,

But then I thought two heads are better one.

I am Nigeria,

I am tired of speaking through the people

Since they are never heard, and if heard,

Not understood, and if understood,

Not considered and if considered,

Mouth service is all that is offered.

I try to speak through these leaders,

But the sheep knows his shepherds voice no more,

Or maybe has just turned deaf ears to it,

Or are just simply distracted by the tussle of power and authority.

But then, 

I hope to get corrupt enough, 

Sick enough,

Poor enough,

To finally deserve change.

My fear is anything worse than these,

The killing in the north,

The stealing amongst the executives 

And the high poverty rate,

Then our welded edges of Love 

Would begin to rust

And in only a matter of time,

There may no longer be an US.