Erroneously called third world,
Could have been, but once upon a time,
Now no better than a war ravaged sorry excuse,
Overrun by millions of uneducated minors and poorly educated seniors;

Old timers reminisce days of better,
When enough went round to even fly around,
Times when the first world was a backyard trip,
And the currency was more than a generous tip;

So when a big bird drops a returnee,
And welcome is a smelly, darkly terminal,
Lackeys in uniform coercing gratification,
Then confronted by abysmal roads manned by drunken law enforcement;

Nobody needs a lesson in enlightenment,
To figure this rudderless contraption's predicament,
And whether the future will bring turnaround development?
Better pray, like they always do, for better entertainment.