Sorry to the past
Where I was not much of a cast
What a niggling thought I have of you
Like a schnook I lived in you, and not with you.
You’ve affected my mind like a peyote
And in my future, you wait to pulverize me like a coyote.

Sorry to the you, who I lovingly hate
Who need not to be my mate
Existed from the beginning
The eerie and hermetic world of demeaning,
Placed me in a bewilderment of sorrow
Painted in blooded sky, the tearful eye hopeless of the morrow.

Sorry to the being
Who watched my ancestors, euthanized to their graves with a swing
Fought the unfair and honorific war for my freedom,
Even my punctiliousness cannot repay their martyrdom.
With the priceless chains, abroad they rode
Nothing thrown at half mast, notwithstanding their bodies on the road.

Sorry to the tree
On which they hung light and free
Stories that gives children the creep
Like death’s close to its keep
And in their long insouciant sleep
I steep myself in thee so deep.

Sorry to the tear
You poured as rain, so dear
Your idea to squelch was a mirage, 
Like an aeroplane in a garage.
In mortification you stood in rage
Forced to open every page.

Sorry to the culture
Like a tyre with a puncture
To the law, broken with claws
To the religion that lost its Union.

Sorry to the me, who broods at thee
You live in my every second
Taking note of every record
Every second moves into time past
And I’m sorry to the time past
To where my mind is cast.

- Ofordum Chukwujekwu