POEM 355: NIGERIA

on daily, you hurt me in ways like no one ever, 
cutting me deep, right into my heart

on a daily, you beat me up without lifting a hand,
and, you shut me up when I cry

on a daily, you crush my hope
and tell the world I am a stale joke, 
lazy mentally unstable and broke

on a daily, you claim you're unaware, 
to all the troubles you make me bear

on a daily, you give me your love, just to rip it away:
I am the climax of the dirty game you play
I matter less, you win anyway

on a daily, you treat me like trash & broken pieces-
only good enough when's time to wrestle power - I, the worthless masses

on a daily, you boldly look me in the eyes
and feed me so many thrilling lies

but

soon you'd choke on every cruel word you say,
for though I seem a little bit too spineless 
to ever stand tall, I am no more senseless

for though, in times before election,
I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all,
I've sharpened my ignorance with light
and would expose your smelling shadows

on a daily we'd both agree your anus is a flute
but I'd ne'er be the one who'd blow it for you,

I rather would bend you over to face the wind backwards
then bid on it to come whooshing by,
with the swiftness of your many lies,
exposing all that lies beneath those feathers
that would ne'er fly me to Canaan land

soon

soon

this anthem of ours may find it's meaning



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