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Cry on, Magdalena

Updated on June 29, 2016

She was the lady,
who stood upfront the MalacaƱang doors,
face slumped with guilt,
as her children sang
gloomy symphonies.

Everyday she wept,
as the Chief marched in,
donned in nothing but white suit,
adorned with nothing but star-shaped spectacles.

She cried for mercy,
begged for relent, and
the marshalls kicked her out
as they silenced her with a jab.

And the poor she went down,
as her kids surrounded her
offering nothing but consoling despair
and then there were tears, and more tears.

Everyday the sun lived and died,
she still strangled behind MalacaƱang's
rusticated entrances,
hoping that someday, somehow, someone
from the castle of Pasig would
pityingly sneak to her morose state.
But today she hoped, only to hope again tomorrow.

She was Magdalena,
mother of nine, raped for hundred times,
the only Filipino woman alive
who dared stop RH bill
from taking the helms on more Filipinas.

She hoped false hope.


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