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How many times shall I write?
How many times shall I be on the side of white?
In real life, good has no chance.
Only in folklore is his victory in abundance.

Maybe prose does not move enough.
And poetry, a complication so tough.
How can I penetrate your conscience?
How do I lift your consciousness?

My voice yet quakes.
In the oceans via the lakes.
In my wits I see desolation.
My words void and in isolation.

Don't they hear me?
Are my utterances a cat's mew?
Ain't I loud enough?
Do I make speeches in between coughs?

Why is evil this sweet and potent?
Why is here owned by men of low quotient?
What has avarice done to us?
Poverty is huge, Nigeria is at a loss.

The proletariats rejoice in self-induced squalor.
Religion yet exploits in paid succour.
No one tells the truth.
The hoi polloi ignorant of the roots.

I see good only winning in movies.
In real life, it behaves like some naive rookies.
But nothing lasts forever.
And I will be here when it's all over.

Biafra must come.
This unholy and slavish marriage must come to nought.

Written by:
Mazi Nwabueze Nwagbo
(TBRV Writer)
For: The Biafra Restoration Voice - TBRV

Published by:
Chibuike John Nebeokike
For: The Biafra Restoration Voice - TBRV

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TBRV | Biafra

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