Under angry sun,
we stood to vote you in
in scattered lanes.
Lips dipped in honey bottles;
you used them brilliantly,
stole our heart with your lies
enchanted us with deceit!
Your eyes sold you to lust.
Now, there’s nothing to show,
after your forth year reign!
But our roads are still dust filled;
our throats are still parched from thirst,
as we grope in created darkness,
idle hands searching empty pocket.
Mr. Gomina, who should we run to?
Our state is now a war zone
and we sing the anthem of poverty…
Ah, how we have suffered!
I blame my thumb for that print…
We shall kiss bottles of gin,
just to curse your name!
Written by: Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson