The albinos left us
many decades ago,
Our brothers took over,
We thought they are humans.
Haven\'t we seen enough?
How long will the gimmicks continue?
Irrationality looms the streets,
Comfortable in our sufferings.
Pulpits oil our pains,
Just a visit to religious canopies,
Microphones will sing their praises,
And lure our thumbs to their favour.
When the going gets tough,
They tell us to shout to heavens,
Calling on Chukwu Okike,
To intervene in our stupidity.
After lavishing time and resources,
And their seats are threatened,
They pay courtesy visit;
To their roots.
They come home
To romance our religious emotions,
Divide and rule,
The abstract ideology and strategy.
What is the fate of our offsprings?
Do they have hope?
We are their hope,
If we can take up placards,
And our thumbs will rewrite the narrative.
Beware of these pen robbers,
Soon they will come home,
These elephants trample on grasses,
Who survive by nature\'s will?
Out fate, is in our hands.