I saw a ‘patriot’ on Monday of last week,
a young boy; holed-up under a bridge,
probably seven he might be, a sojourner perhaps,
our eyes crossed path,
his begging mine to ‘pulley’ him out
of his elusive world.
Since then, his haunting eyes followed me
through’t the Monday of last week.
I saw a ’patriot’ on Monday of last week,
a maiden; particularly an eight and twelve,
boxed to a corner, a dreamer I guess.
A tear flowed down my cheeks, many a tear perhaps,
ad I saw her conflict;
a bulging eyes with a protruding belly
and then our eyes crossed path,
I became her muse with her dreamy eyes
following me,
through’t the Monday of last week
I saw a patriot on Monday of last week,
a native of the streets, popularly known as the
“Alaye”.
I watched his rhythm;
calculative as he employed crafts on ‘danfo drivers’
to make both ends meet.
Our eyes crossed path, a struggler he was,
And his struggling eyes followed me
through’t the Monday of last week.
I saw a ‘patriot’ on Monday of last week,
an educated elite he was, also known as ‘graduate’.
His portfolio in one hand and the other hand
in akimbo;
Pausing, moving and pausing again
deep in thought as his portfolio(s) are sitting in dusting
cabinets of Eko’s tall-glassed buildings.
Still yet, our eyes did cross path;
I saw frustration
And his frustrating eyes followed me
throught’t the Monday of last week
I saw a ‘patriot’ on Monday of last week
A disillusionist, hitherto referred to as ‘govment worka’.
I felt his unexpressed emotions,
bottled-up in stark disappointment
as he goes on with his routines.
Our eyes crossed path; I saw failure
And his failing eyes followed me
Through’t the Monday of last week
I saw a ‘patriot’ on Monday of last week,
a lawmaker otherwise known as a ‘senator’
in thick-glassed window of his bulletproof car.
A custodian of law in lawlessness,
Our eyes didn’t cross path; his shield blocking off chances of a glance.
But I still felt, a predator
with his hovering presence following me
throught’t the Monday of last week.
Who am I?
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