The lads we left here with the dreams of fullmoon
And rainbow before we sought green fortunes in
Europe through the cemetery roads of Sahara are
Slowly turning into rust. The stretched marks on their
Bodies are relics of untold depression. “The harsh
Economy is sapping life here,” Kunle said, a second
Class graduate now a roadside bicycle repairer – who
Later jumped into the lagoon. There was Abdul – who
Would’ve ruled FIFA’s world, but his torn Achilles tendon
Fetched him permanent clutches. Today, he swallowed
Himself and let fire compose him into charred remains.
That was how we broke into Ada, Obehi … and harvested
Scars of failed suicidal coups in their minds. The lads we
Left here – the stigmatized too – have one leg of their dreams
In a tomb and the other teetering on a stool for self-absence.