The weak die slowly in Lagos

By Nasiru Oseni

A dry wind careers

Through a trillion unkept strands

Of greying hairs

Distributing the noxious smell

Of industrial waste

Like an unbridled horse

On the third mainland bridge

Free of bumps and potholes.

The other side

Is an endless struggle

Through toll gates

Of daily expenses,

And barricades

Of public and private institutions

That beckon only to the affluent few

Everybody dreams

But only the strong can live here

The weak die slowly in Lagos

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