You leave me no choice at all,
You let me hanged from the err.
You got me, stole my innocent,
Because of this I am destitute.
You love me not,
you care only of your own desire.
You deprived the chances
to change your course,
changing it to a better descisions and God's will.
You left nothing good,
except those excruciating memoir.
ALAS! Those times are futile and pathetic.
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Comments about this poem (Alas! by Didith Marcelo )
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