This poem was written at the pick of a stressful life during my summer holiday here in Yola. This was the period when frustration almost toke me apart and I was really poised to facing the worst but I still used the word "Life" as a metaphor. One who reads with an open mind would certainly know that God is a perfect metaphoric word.
Life, Oh prescious life
Why do you treat your citizens bad?
Why do you not give all equal opportunities?
Why do you not interfer in your peoples trouble?
Oh, I wonder!
The first time your citizens came into this world
You gave them an impression of your concern
You welcome them so well
You shawer the rain of love among them
As the years went by
You secretely withdrew your hands from them
So that they may realize that existemce is an individual affair
I'm afraid, you're wicked
I remember when I first began to know you
but it wasn't the real you, you portrayed
why being so deceptive?
why, just why?
I swear, I hate you
Most painfully, many claim you have power
And so you can do all things
But you refuse to let us know why you never help the powerless
What if I say you are not powerful
Or must I pray and fast for forty days before you agree to help me?
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