Poetry

IN THE ERA OF NAIRA By Bada Yusuf Amoo & So_Cynic

Written by Bada Yusuf Amoo

Do not mock my nakedness if I sell my head to Naira
I am in search for shelter and privatized is Naira
Sun burns me, rain beats me and I find no Naira
But tomorrow, free gift will be Naira

I am the chicken that politicians have taken its feather
They caged me in poverty and hold the key – Naira
They throw me corn at intervals in form of Naira
For my death will make mean their power
Tomorrow is election, the era of Naira – Bada Yusuf Amoo

Reading this my thoughts drowned in the tears of my soul,
As I wonder why we all live with dejected hopes,
Dancing to a symphony with misplaced tone,
Made up of melodies with defected notes,
This, is the effect of power in the wrong hold,

Sadly we now live like a book with missing chapters,
Sell our trust to those who bids it better,
Yet cry in agony of been ruled by cruel leaders,
Who crumble our hopes and make us suffer,
For they bought what they deserve not, “power”

A tale of our society “In the era of naira” – So_Cynic

About the author

Bada Yusuf Amoo

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