The poor man in Nigeria is a milk cow.
I am reared either to be milked or be butchered,
I struggle through thick and thin for my family’s survival
I walk out from home without guarantee of coming back.

I dread man attack but I dread more of the invisible hunger attack
For man has some sense while hunger does not,
Only to be met with ungodly marauders
Who have no conscience if they turned murderers.

I have naught knowledge of my offence
Yet I am made to face the fence,
And naught have I a means of defence.

Government milks me through tax collection
Or they say is form of revenue generation,
A poor man who has little or naught for consumption.

This world is not the ideal abode for me a poor man,
Perhaps I don’t belong here beside any man,
And I should pack all my baggage and go away.

Again transport fare is now a problem,
Despite the covid-19 pandemic,
The driver of Nigerian state has increased fuel price.

Then, where will I go to?
Where will I be safe in my own motherland?
Which of the securities will I trust?
Who would wipe my tears?
Government which makes promises to win my vote?
Rich men with capitalist philosophy?
Or my neighbour which we are in the shoe with?

I guess I have to stay here if this is my destiny,
My North which used to be a sanctuary,
is now a place where the term ‘survival of the fittest’ could practically be brought to bear.

Now, I sleep with one eye closed and the other opened,
Thinking someone might pounce on me at anytime.

If I had the chance again to come back to this world again,
I would choose another.

By: Mahmud Yahaya
A student of Faculty of Law,
Bauchi State University, Gadau.
yahayamahmood090@gmail.com