Voter card

Tomorrow I'll go join the queue

Get the card

So I can cast my vote.

But for now I'll tweet

How important this is.

For without the likes and retweets

This feeling is sour

At best bittersweet.

All this hassle when the result has been rigged.

A dirty game this politics.

My nephew is underage

But he has his voter card.

When I ask him which party he'll vote

He shrugs and says

"Na who pay pass, go get my vote."

Mother scolds him, but her rebuke is weak.

Just like the resolve of many

Wielding a voter card.

Father has his card

And by now we know who'll get his vote

He recites the name when the beer is cold

Even though I still recall the incident from four years ago

That Friday morning when he left home full of hope

to cast his vote.

He joined the queue, all bribes vehemently refused

Alas he was ill prepared for the long delay and fights that ensued

He was shoved and hit and came home bruised.

The other party won.

I remember that too.

My aunt has pity in her eyes

For all who place their trust

In this little card.

“Prayer and fasting, is what this country needs”

She says to anyone willing to pay heed

With sufficient prayers, the corrupt will die in their sleep

And the chosen ones will take their stead

Prayer is the only thing that can't be rigged.

Today is tomorrow

And I am unable to go to the booth after all.

I am Nigerian, I have too much on my plate.

Too much to meddle with my country's fate.

We've survived all this while

What's one more day

To procrastinate?

All this hassle when the result has been rigged.

I tell you, it's a dirty game

This politics.