My President Was Cried Poem by Ojeikpo Elijah

My president was cried upon by all,
A satirical drama of wailing,
But who can search a man's heart,
My dear, dear president, why do you cry?

Did your ego get hurt, did it bruise or die?
Did someone say something that made you frown?
Or did someone not give you your golden crown?

What could have made my president eyes to river?
Did the world not bow down at your command?
Did they not acknowledge your mighty brand?
Oh, how it must hurt, to not be adored.

Is it a weeping for his betwitched nation?
Rich but reign in abject poverty,
We should all cry together, to end this nightmare,
To cause his excellent to woke, unto the mourning morning.

To not be worshipped, like you're some lord,
Did the media not praise every move you make?
Did they not see your greatness, for heaven's sake?
Did they dare to question, your every decree?

Oh, how it must hurt, for you to not be free,
Free from the criticism, free from the doubt,
Free from the truth, that's trying to shout,
For you are the president, the chosen one.

No one should question, what you've done,
But alas, the world is not a stage
And your tears, my dear, do not engage,
For we see through your act, your facade.

And we know, it's all just a charade,
You cry for attention, you cry for power,
But we see right through you, hour by hour,
You can't hide behind your tears of despair.

For we know, you're just a puppet, with no real care,
So wipe away those crocodile tears,
For we see the truth, and it only sears,
You may be the president, but you're not our king.

And our voices will rise, and make our hearts sing,
So let your tears flow, let them come and go,
For we, the people, will continue to grow,
And when your time as president is through,
We'll wipe our tears, and bid adieu.