this is not a poem.
It’s just a rant.
Have you ever felt like the whole world is against you?
Like no matter what you do, you are rigged to fail?
Being a Nigerian is just like that.
I have so much pity for my mum and dad,
seeing them struggle to cough out money for me to live a better life,
watching them struggle with nothing to show for it.
I try to help by securing a monthly income, but whatever I get is finished halfway into the month.
Not because I am reckless.
Not because I have no financial sense.
But because of the rising cost of everything in this country.
You would buy a bottle of Pepsi—once sold for ₦100 during my time
(though a little bird told me it was once priced at ₦70)—
for ₦500, simply to cool your thirst.
After you take the first sip, the first thing you feel is regret.
You begin to count your expenses,
how much money you have left,
all because you decided to satisfy a basic need—your thirst.
Now, next year, we will have to deal with what we call wickedness in high places:
a 20% increase in taxes, but no increase in returns.
When I get to heaven, just as I am required to give an account of my life lived on earth,
God should also be required to give an account of the past sins I committed
to send me to a forsaken country, a place where dreams are buried.
A certain someone once said:
“Nothing ever survives here—not dreams, not diseases.”
He is right.
You are working hard, but the country is working against you.
There is nothing more to say.
This is just a rant of a tired Nigerian.
By yours truly,
Mesoma
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