A Dancer Is Found Poem by Haruna Garba

The win-win talks amassed,
The deaf ear gathering a lot
Turned brainwashed specimen
Deaf to the consent of the lots

With the wheel in his hands
He can't help going through
With that which ruins the bulk

Why the bloc except about one
And there is just one such a one

Assume the neutral but no way
We are sovereign like anyone
And the band knowing the best
Played the tune the dancer likes

Absorbed in the tune, going crazy
He is caught coveting for tools-
Instruments of death across lands
To be played on his dear small soil
Where the generality wouldn't like
But the dancer to save his face
Has become such a dogged soul
And as such, a dancer is found