The Sorrowful Battle Cry Poem by Raymond Cabrera

“My pen is the blade I wield…
Its ink is the raging flow of my blood…
My will is my strongest shield.
Better to die a thousand times for something,
Than to live in years for nothing”

Scribbled thoughts…

…denied rights; failed to buy justice by gold.
A steadfast defender on one’s dying country,
Such tricks that lingers, and deceit and lies untold;
His pen scribbles for all the shams and drudgery,
Wide-awake; see those children lying on street?
Gasping for air and what food there is to eat?

..A will to fight over graft and corruption,
Such bribery, and the puppets of the government,
Citizens die from hunger along with the suffering nation;
Voices unheard, screaming for hope, and the beggars lament.
How many lives would be spent?

Still at counts? ...

His blood fell for the land that’s hungry for hope.
Poured out for truth…
Blood was wasted for worthless endeavor.
Violent surge of blood that washes
The thieves who stole peace and make crime
For all politics who deceive and make lie as their prime.

Eligible words…

Yet, the scale of justice could not be afford,
My fate will soon be near…
To die for the land that I adored,
Cruel masters filled me with fear…

And they…

…cut his both wrist, choked his head, years without feed
His body swells, and his forehead bleeds.
Bathed by own blood…
Eyes still open…
Seeing injustice and the nation’s cruel fate,
Though now, he’s safe into the heaven’s gate.