SORRY, MY COUNTRY

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On the lithesome lips of the gods
A favourite, was once your story,
Before it got sour like a dirge lyrics
Of which melancholy manifests melody.

Sorry, my country.

As white as snow, was your peaceful sign
Till it got soaked with my sisters' blood,
When roving massacres dug their early grave
And my brothers' bodies lie beneath the greens.

Sorry, my country.

The plan was that you free till coming days
From anger of hunger that births pain your vein,
Before you trekked pass your own for(th)tune
Into the hurtful hut of those friendly fiends.

Sorry, my country.

The moon read and busted to a song of sorrow,
As trees of forest dance it's beat, so cold,
On your face, I see a map to depression
And I find no joy in writing you a condolence.

Sorry, my country.

#PsalmsInk
#EverythingBlack
#SorryMyCountry

© Samuel O. Ogunyinka, (Psalmist).

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