The Mosaic

The mosaic A myriad of faces, Most, long and forlorn, Each in a constant flux, Eking out a living Worry, deeply etched, Like parallel ridges, On an otherwise barren waste The many faces, Painted with the ink, Of the pains, Of successive failed leaderships, On the canvas; Nigeria A giant mosaic - A picture, yet of hope, Hope deeply engraved, On our collective psyche Our collective psyche- A Mosaic Of our individual pessimism, Nurtured in the manure Of perpetual system decay, It's foul stench, Slowly eroding our gaiety, Yet, delicately perfumed, Perfumed by our collective hope, Our hope for a better tomorrow