The Boy From Lagos Poem by Michael Oluwasegun Adesiji

I may stand in the shabbily
Messy pit of life
Yet, I have my feet fixed on a ride
Upon a bridge that takes me
Above the views of my sides
In the distance of a mile.

To my sights, hope may be tainted
In the colors of a trash
I may appear the last
In the race away from penury
Indigence and Insufficiency.

Still, I smile...

I am the boy from Lagos
The born and raised in the slum
A better name for the gutter
Which houses the poor
And the exceedingly poor.

I may be far
From my needs and wishes.
Yet, unspaced
From the scents of weeds
And some lengthy hisses
Even when I need to read
I get muddled by the murmurs
Of a bunch of bishes.

Still, I smile...

Pity me not,
For I've got a mine of treasures
Incase you are wondering,
You may come on with me
With a climb on this bridge
To see a future full of glitters
In a mile apart from these gutters.

To see through the spectacles
Given unto me by the school
Till I come leading with some tools
The schooled and the unschooled
Till I make the slum
A depot of marbles,
And not of nylons, papers and bottles.

When I look afar,
The journey seem tougher
As I move further,
Somewhat impossible
The vision sometimes look
But, I am the boy from Lagos
The one with an everly pleasant look
In the season for tears
And regrets, as this.

Still, I smile...

©Onyedikachi: The Cub To The Seven Gods