Forgive Me Poem by Mark Trajano

Forgive me, my Mother, that this is in foreign tongue,
A tongue I find more accommodating than yours,
Yours which I see a bearer of poison- dev'lish fang.
One of such that will strike with absurd ominous force
Flinging itself unto destruction having faith bent.
Forgive me, my Mother, that I betrayed you like this.
But, I write now, because I can't bear to keep silent.

Your children, my siblings, are profound in art ‘f bloodshed.
Where are their hearts to direct them to the one and true light?
Why are their minds shrouded by the darkness which we dread?
Where are the children in them to remind them of what's right?
Why has it come to be like this, we, the irony:
A nation divinely blessed with overflowing gifts,
A nation of riches immeasurable by we,
Led by men and women with difference in their drifts?

Forgive me, our Mother, for this is what I can do-
Express the sentiments of the many innocent,
My innocent siblings who have, in time, turned pale blue,
My siblings who are bleeding from s'vere morality dent.
With a lot fading from what has been set as pillars
Your children are lost more than ever scattered like dust,
Being blown everywhere, anywhere we'd be full ‘f scars
Before that happens, I write to and for them, I must.

Words will not suffice, will not give justice anymore.
Ears are inadequate for the rapid spreading.
We all must be one with our Mother and heal from the core,
As brothers and sisters, we all must start healing.