Don't tell me Nigeria was a bed of roses;
Before the 90s.
Tell me if there were never crisis,
And things were what they should be.
In the blink of an eye,
We turned slaves.
Just like Time does not dye
Our memories do not light.
Our cries echoe day and night
Songs of lamentation never end
The kings trampling on our rights
Turning a deaf ear to our cries.
The power created by us,
Turned to overpower us.
Dogs we fed feast on our flesh with ease
Now, we eat not our meals in peace.
Our wishes became thorn
Hopes are about to be lost forever
Her behaviour speaks of suffering bravely borne
We hope for a better future, However.
Makinde Oluwasegun,
Adeleke University,
Ede Chapter.
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