Nigeria is merely a plant
Stubborn with growth.
But always reaching for the sky
In an overgrown garden of bush-thorns.
Nigeria is merely an ugly plant,
Camouflaging in alluring colours,
With fragrance of an inherent scent.
And thorny barks that unveil history.
Nigeria is merely a barren plant,
Where are her firm branches?
There are neither fruits nor flowers,
Just pale leaves dotted with eczema.
Nigeria is merely a shapeless plant.
The shape of a plant tells its story.
The bended limbs are tragic tales.
Can KNOTTED BRANCHES be straight again?
Nigeria is a sap of quinine juice,
A culture of bitter-sweet madness.
Budding as a toxic flower,
With nectar baneful to my lungs.
June twelve is a brown leaf fallen from atop.
Cracked under the boots of uniformed peacocks.
DemoCrazy, a carnation of wickedness.
Corruption buds into putrid flowers.
Under this molten sunlight of democracy skies,
While bright-petaled hibiscuses
Of decorous standards all wilt,
Tell me how Nigeria, a noxious flower will blossom?