Post by Eneojo Sani (@ESANI2091)

They carved our bones into roads,
yet we walked.
They rationed rain in a oil-rich land,
yet we grew.

Morning finds us,
bent but not broken,
laughing a little louder
than the graves behind us.

We turn scars into proverbs,
suffering into surname.
When the world says enough,
Naija says again.

They carved our bones into roads, yet we walked. They rationed rain in a oil-rich land, yet we grew....

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