We promise in proportion to our hopes, and we deliver in proportion to our fears.
Francois De La Rochefoucald.
She had potential, so unjustly she was taken prisoner
Made to grind out her gifts to someone that didn’t love her
The thing is, she was powerless you see
But she had hope that her children will one day set her free
Her hope didn’t seem misplaced
Her children wanted it too, and by no challenge where they fazed
All she could do was wish for a brighter day
They promised to deliver her, no price was too high to pay!
You see, her children succeeded, the day finally came
She was free from shackles and she thought things will never be the same
Good times are here, never again will I suffer
Even if we stutter, things can never get tougher
Alas! The damsel was wrong
Her quasi-freedom did not last for too long
Her children turned against each other
And the anguish is torment for this dear mother
Every night, I hear her screaming
‘they don’t feed my weaker children’ – she believes she’s still dreaming
Sadly though, that’s the sad reality
The gifts she has turned out has occupied her greedy children – INSANITY
Today, she doesn’t believe the promises of her new fighters, or the freedom movements
She’s heard it all before, her expectations now non-existent
She’s resigned to depression, she expects the worst and most gory
HER NAME IS NIGERIA and this is her STORY.