Gutless muffled monarch wooed millions to the poll,
Our feeble lord enforced on us by pathetic speech of poverty (I once had no shoes)
On congruent grounds of pain we forced him, though we hated his coterie.
Disappointed, now we wail waiting surrogate to lead the mass to unending journey of relief
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What a pity! I am saddened the more reading this poem. Nigeria needs real saviours