The one that keeps my sweated gold
Did make me put my trust in you.
I knew not that your bloodless heart
Would treat me so un-faithfully!
The trust I owed my cracked wallet
I did entrust to plastic you.
So here I stand, seething in rage,
My blazing eyes fixed on this screen!
Is not this my birth given name
Engraved upon thy stupid face?
And yes, the riches of your vault –
Naira and Kobo – all is mine!
So why then do I press in vain
These quad digits that should ope you?
Say, have you not a thousand times
Been generous at their command?
Wallet and pockets both emptied,
I’ll seek the one that made you mine,
Oh yes, these fists shall carve his face
Unless he gives me what you hoard!
…This poem is for all of us who have one time or the other been left stranded by the ATM machine! It should be read like a song, according to the rhythm, with 8 beats per line!