TEGA





He is TEGA,
Magna cum laude he tops
Tenacious as a bull dog
CFO - he is of a fortune-500
Toast at 8 in the morn, loyal he sits
Yet he totters dangerously through the twilight of Lagos slums.

Yesterday, a mayor
A prisoner of the future
Bound by the sturdy chains of retrenchment
In voiceless decibels comes his shrills
Still he bleeds for earns meet
while wages and meat never quite agree.

With his sweat-soaked body and tired eyes
He, wanders down the pedestrian bridge
In the face of his crystal reality
The wounds to his soul attest
His body falls flaccid and lame.

Will I ever see these lean days through?
He broods,
Maami is gone
Papa is a lost cause
He roams in hazy speed to a house without a lover
Or a companion to bare the soul.

As he walks up the bridge as before
Him versus the throng of living mannequins
Walking (working) against his frail self.
“These beings” he sighs
Do they not see me?
Do they not feel me?
…in forlorn he cries out faintly
To a dotty indifferent world.

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