Hear me, please.
I am dying of loneliness.
My children left me on my knees,
Away, they seek their own happiness.
Hear me, please.
I am being robbed.
My children sold my treasures,
To that foreign mob.
Hear me, please.
I am being forgotten.
My children feels ashamed,
Of being born as my children.
Please, hear me, please.
I am becoming a slave.
My home is full of strangers.
Can I still be called Philippines?
.=*=.=*=.=*=.=*=.=*=.
[[A/N: First posted on WWO group as an entry on POETwitsWednesday last 03.06.2019]]
Imaged used: from fineartamerica.com --- art by Rio Villegas (credits to the owner of the picture)
YOU ARE READING
Songs of a Pretty Mystery (A collection of poems)
PoetryA collection of poems with different topics, different emotions and different language. "The words you cannot express, In paper, you put it all, Let your pen do the rest, And it'll turn into a beautiful song." ~Kanari
