Nigeria, an harlot
.
I saw her head graciously sitting on a spike
And her blood meandered through the edge of a pike
.
Her whole parts divided into a lesser whole
The rain of truth pummeled and pull out her pole
.
An ingrate who has no regards for the gift of the gods
For the big breasts and well structured buttock without odds
To produce a great nation
.
But she lust  after the beauty of corruption
And slept with cultures of other nations

© Drunk Poet