By Ted Ebute
They say we live in freedom’s light,
But shadows stretch across the night.
They call it rule by people’s will—
Yet silence keeps our voices still.
To speak is now to wear a mark,
A hunted soul lost in the dark.
Truth becomes a deadly dare,
While justice vanishes in air.
We feed ourselves with borrowed pain,
Our sweat the source of private gain.
We build the roads, protect our gate,
Yet still must beg the hands of state.
The school is bare, the ward is dry,
The trains don’t move, the fares fly high.
No roof to shield, no peace to find—
This burden breaks the poor man’s spine.
You dream, but dreams are taxed and sold,
Unless your hands the flag can hold
Of party kings who rule the land
With empty speech and greedy hand.
What name shall truth now bravely speak?Democracy, once strong, now weak?
Or has the mask at last betrayed—
A demon dressed in robes it made?
So tell me, leaders, high and proud:
If this is freedom, why the shroud?
If this is power by the masses,
Why do we groan like broken glasses?
The ballot ink may mark the page,
But chains still rattle in our cage.
Until we rise, both voice and pen—
This beast will rule, and not the men.
DEDICATED TO NIGERIA ON HER DEMOCRACY DAY.
