We are not yet a centuary old
Though we are Africa’s flagship
Our flagpole is a broken horn
Dirty degrading, raged and torn.
Its fabric is a rag of a torn hope
Lost in a trench of a challenger deep.
Have in mind, challenges are but;
A good propeller to heights and great.
Great is a Nation, that stand tall
Against tribalism and apocalyptic fall.
We don’t need calls to fall the trees
Of nepotism, rooted in our homes.
Nepotism is a man of few capacities
Positioned in by his blood relatives,
Relatively dimming the opportunities
Of the very most qualified abilities.
Mostly, nepotism is a hug and shake
That will hardly give but often take.