Nigeria—which way out?

We're embers—
dying relics of what 
we used to be. 
Nations splash mud at us, mocking us. 
Our tails are tucked between 
our hides, & our roars
reduced to mere whimpers.

so high it stretches 
beyond our reach. 
It expands even further 
as we grow up 
& we watch it
dangle from the ceiling. 
Now, we are desolate 
as we walk on the paths of gold
now paved with the brightest mud, 
while our glory days look on at us
with pretend pity
and stony smiles. 
Our achievements
are like gaping rags now—
no shiny success for the future foetus. 
Aye, we're fading ashes—
a dying remnant. 


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