On a brittle edge I sit
Bleating like a trumpet
When there’s a touch on my tail
As though a tiger.
Proffering the right measures
Comes my gifted skill,
But alas I fold my arms
And wait for words to move mountains.
Once beaten they say brings us caution
But a hundred mistakes bring forth
Hundred lessons heavy in my brow.
For if anger were gunshots,
My lamentations would shoot on
Bangs for ears to recall
The preachings of yesteryear.
One naira dropped for our misfortunes
Would make me rich a man,
With a knock of change calling at the door.
And even if I decide to repent
And embrace my shortcomings for real,
But then I’m nothing more than me
Too frail and helpless
To fight the big temptation
That corruption brings.