Its world's poetry day!...I dedicate this poem to the Nigerian graduate.
Unsure of the future after school
Parades the streets of our fatherland
Honoring one office after another
Morosed as though
escaped from drowning
Embittered shoes constantly
warning the cotton
Never to cross its path.
Adorned with garments,
the iron's enemy.
But so friendly to water
Unproductiveness mars his reasoning
Reduces his self worth
Illiteracy challenges him to a duel
He turns unwillingly but helplessly crude
But there is the so-called favored
Born with the silver spoon or is it golden?
For them,black and white does the magic
Leaving the former teary eyed
For he wears the shoes of
The real Naija graduate
Oh!, how his feet hurts.
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