Like a troubadour traversing, they are,
Leaving for a greener pasture, their homes,
Like rodents forced out of their comfort zones,
They leave the country and travel afar.
They leave the land full of milk and honey,
Shivering in the frosty air for money,
Free flow of milk and honey, truncated,
Helpless citizens have been castrated.
Spouses left behind without divorce,
Artificial widows and widowers,
They’re horses denied intercourse by force,
Like beggars, those at home are borrowers.
In the Mediterranean sea, they die,
The unemployed who can’t afford to fly,
The land of honey is now a desert,
Selfish leaders, poverty can’t avert.
The so-called giant is but a mere dwarf,
No progress, they fetch water with a corf,
It’s a pity, the land has been milked dry,
Lament as I ponder, about to cry.
© Niyi Osunlolu (2022)