Of Dirt, Dearth and Death

 

Of Dirt.

I am one with white apparel

My black body is clear, crystal clear

But they say I’m riddled with dirt

In the times before

My kind have come and gone

And they sure had all kinds of dirt

They fail to see I am different

They fail to give me a chance.

Of Dearth.

Men like me are rare these days

I stand for virtues of honest and right

Everyone wants to make a quick box. Hit the bank

The honest road is damn too long for that.

“You have to be smart cunning, this is Naija”

Sigh.

Men like me are scarce these days.

Of Death.

And we are a dying breed

We are told our times have gone past

Welcome to the new age

“Honesty and right would get you nowhere my friend”

“Play smart cunning my friend”

Perhaps I should listen to them

Sigh.

We would all die someday

Then we would know.

 

Of Dirt, Death and Dearth.