Man Behind The desk
- Tragedy Poem
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My right is not entirely mine
For it belongs to me only in name
Muted in the pockets of our man who walks the corridors of power
His protruding belly vibrates to incessant notifications from the peoples’ bank
Getting bigger as it happily receives the deposits of Our Benefits!
He rides to the courtroom at dawn
Attends plenary at noon
And dines at the villa at sun-down
He decides for me because I let him
He eats my share of the bounty also, since he does more work than I do
From the Villa to the Chambers, he works tirelessly
While I sit idly in a corner, sulking on the remaining days of anguish
He grows bigger and fatter
And I, the opposite
He plies routes designed in the clouds
And when he lands, the barricades whispers his arrival
50km radius. Our man must be Protected
He mingles with all except my kind
For my right-LESS status makes me ineligible.
True!
Perhaps he has forgotten
That he only took for a while what actually belongs to me
And very soon, the destitute will walk to the polls again
Please, whisper this into his ears
That my right may not entirely be mine right now
But my THUMB is.
(They know themselves. They are the ones behind the desk. They don't do much except sit at a game of chess. They are the players that have turn my country to a shadow of herself. They kept the commonwealth for themselves alone while millions of us suffered. Research further and you'd be amazed to know how rich my country is. My country is blessed with wealth of resources but I guess she was cursed with Bad Leaders. The election period should be a tool to weed out these crop of individuals but it is sad to know that most times, the elections are compromised)