Where finalists are ejected
Into cold hands of macrocosms
Of battered years
When scale their eyes fails from
To reveal hindsight's
Of vision less illusions
Miraging before visions
Bespectacled by experiences
Of no-your-suffering-continues
Gaining them influx
Into viral infected labor markets
Which provides joblessness for the jobless?
One St. Patrick's' day
When frustration hits their behind
On lonely cul-de-sacs
Where finalized earthlings
Lay bare
   Alone-all-alone
Then and only then
   Will my song start.

POEM BY OHWOJEVWE ESE GANIYU