Childhood memories 😇😋

Long ago, once I locked
my innocence inside a room,
eventually it forgot
how to knock at the door,
but my apology didn't
leave her alone,
for it never stopped chanting
sorry more than thrice a day.
At first I was thinking
sorry is the brightest rose
in a garden full of orchid and
apology is a part of speech
that must present with subject and verb,
And without sorry it's a sentence
without a punctuation mark,
Then once my mother
said to me how her apology
sounds like a snooze alarm,
how her day starts with an alibi,
How her tear stained eyes when speak
anything except sorry,
reads a eulogy to it
marking the death of her pristine.
Like a wish inside a bottle it goes far away,
meant to be found, but often lost in mid way.

My apology is more like
tendrils to my tantrums
that shows up itself inside washroom,
a Bougainville branch with thorn,
that apologizes to pin someone
even if it's broken.
The men of our home inherit
the anger of our ancestors and
women Carry apology,
Sorry bears a gender here and
It often takes the pronoun she.
I inherit my dad's anger and
I inherit my mom's apology too,
the irony is my mom's apology
speaks to me after dad's anger
leaves the room.
Once upon a time my sorries were suffering
From a malady of popping up everywhere
to greet someone's rage.
But my sorries are now the currency
in my piggy banks and I don't want
these ones to break anymore.
My apology
In One word ; heyy
In two words ; I'm sorry
In three words; Please forgive me
In four words ; I love you xyz.
But in infinite words it sounds
similar to silence only.

I know my poetry holds
love, scars and heart breaks
I know my grief looks
beautiful in calligraphy
But ask my childhood
to recite a poem
it would say sorry only.