As the notion of illusion of my
nation reach my mind,by the bridge.
I ponder why the fatherless die,
When the delta is filled with rigs
pumping wealth,from all its fertile land.

While America merry with wine,
I wonder at the game of England
When the Niger people cannot dine.
Ye bridge holding these wealthy race,
as if this will stop all the rising pain.
And this hatred for the northerner face,
birthed a mob that rose in the rain.

And this bridge that held my people
was stormed by a wave of ripple.

by ANIGBOGBO GODFREY OGBEVIRE