I am the unheard, the one who doesn’t make laws.
The one trampled by the 'lords'.
The unknown who never shows up on election posters.
The one they call 'the masses'.
The most hit of all crisis.
The onlooker, staring yet with hope.
The center of all jokes.
The patient, who waits still for the rain.
Even when water is wasted down the drain.
The worker, who tills at all weather, even at summer.
The victim, the one shot by the stray bullet.
The one caught up by accident.
The prosecuted, sentenced for the crime of the free criminals.
The undermined, thought less of, yet represented at the assembly.
The 'infidel', publicly bombed before the security forces.
Yet called a pro-democratic martyr, for undefined causes.
The minimum wage earner, hoping for my 18k.
While lawmakers await their 18mill.
I am the un-tarred road that carries little hope.
The path un-threaded, left for weeds and shrubs.
I am the aborted child, forsaken yet happy I wasn’t born to suffer.
I am the thumbprint cast on the ballot paper for a just cause.
For a man… and not the party.
For the truth…not for anarchy.
I am the country divided by religious flames.
The victims with no names.
I am the account with N10billion short… for the pocket that never gets enough.
I am the vision 20-20-20,
Propelled with a tank so empty.
I am the seed, I am the hope.
I am Nigeria, I am me.