Declamation Piece- I Demand Death

JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

My hands are wet with blood. They are crimsoned with the blood of a man I have just killed.

I have come here today to confess. I have committed murder, deliberate, premeditated murder. I
have killed a man in cold blood. That man is my master.

I am here not to ask for pity but for justice. Simple, elementary justice. I am a tenant… My father
was a tenant before me and so was his father before him. This misery is my inheritance and
perhaps this will be my legacy to my children.

I have labored on a patch of land not mine. But I have learned to love that land, for it is the only
thing that lies between me and complete destitution.

It is the only world that I have learned to cherish. And somewhere on that land I have managed to
build what is now the dilapidated nipa shack that has been home to me.

I have but a few world possessions, mostly rags. My debts are heavy. They are sum total of my
ignorance and the inspired arithmetic of my master, which I do not understand.

I labor like a slave and out of the fruits of that labor I get but a mere pittance for a share. And I
have to stretch that mere pittance to keep myself and my family alive.

My poverty has reduced me to the bare necessities of life. And the constant fear of rejection from
the land has made me totally subservient to my master. You tell me that under the constitution, I
am a free man-free to do what I believe is just, free to do what I think is right, and free to
worship God according to the dictate of my conscience. But I do not understand the meaning of all
these for I have never known freedom. I have always obeyed the wishes of my master out of fear.
I have always regarded myself as no better than a slave to the man who owns the land on which I
live. I do not ask you to forgive me nor to mitigate my crime. I have taken the law into my own
hands, and I must pay for it in atonement.

But kill this system. Kill this system and you kill despotism. Kill this system and you kill
slavery. Kill this despotism and you set the human soul to liberty and freedom. Kill this slavery
and you release the human spirit into happiness and contentment. For the cause of human
liberty, of human happiness and contentment, thousands and even millions have died and will
continue to die.

Mine is only one life. Take me if you must but let it be a sacrifice to the cause which countless
others have been given before and will be given again and again, until the oppressive economic
system has completely perished, until the sons of toil have been liberated from enslavement, and
until man has been fully restored to decency and self respect.

You tell me of the right to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But I have known no
rights, only obligations; I have known no happiness; only despair in the encumbered existence that
has always been my lot.

My dear friend, I am a peace-loving citizen. I have nothing but love for my fellowmen. And yet,
why did I kill this man? It is because he was the symbol of an economic system which has made
him and me what we are: He, a master, and I, a slave.

Out of a deliberate design I killed him because I could no longer stand this life of constant fear
and being a servant. I could no longer suffer the thought of being perpetually a slave.

I committed the murder as an abject lesson. I want to blow that spelled the death of my master
to be a death blow to the institution of the economic slavery which shamelessly exists in the
bright sunlight of freedom that is guaranteed by the constitution to every man. My dear friend: I
do anguish from the weak and helpless and has laid upon the back of the ignorant labor burdens
that are too heavy to be borne, I demand death!

To this callous system of exploitation that has tightened the fetters of perpetual bondage in the
hands of thousands, and has killed the spirit of freedom in the hearts of men, I demand death.

To this oppression that has denied liberty to the free and unbounded children of God, I DEMAND
DEATH!

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Declamation Piece- The Face Upon the Floor… (author:
Hugh Antoine D’Arcy)
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

‘Twas a balmy summer evening and a goodly crowd was there,

Which well-nigh filled Joe’s barroom, on the corner of the square;
And as songs and witty stories Came through the open door,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.
“Where did it come from?” someone said. “The wind has blown it in.”
“What does it want?” another cried. “Some whiskey, or rum or gin?”
“Here, Toby, sic ’em, if your stomach’s equal to the work–
I wouldn’t touch him with a fork, he’s filthy as a Turk.”

This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace;
In fact, he smiled as tho’ he thought he’d struck the proper place.
“Come, boys, I know there’s kindly hearts among so good a crowd–
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud.

“Give me a drink–that’s what I want… I’m out of funds, you know,

When I had cash to treat the gang this hand was never slow.
What? You laugh as if you thought this pocket never held a sou;
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you.

“There, thanks, that’s braced me nicely, God bless you one and all;
Next time I pass this good saloon, I’ll make another call.
Give you a song? No, I can’t do that, my singing days are past;
My voice is cracked, my throat’s worn out and my lungs are going fast.

“I’ll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too.

Say! Give me another whiskey and I’ll tell you what I’ll do…
That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think;
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink.

“Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame–
Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably tame;
Five fingers… there, that’s the scheme… and corking whiskey, too.
Well, here’s luck, boys and landlord… my best regards to you.

“You’ve treated me pretty kindly and I’d like to tell you true
How I came to be the dirty sot, you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame, and health,
And but for a blunder ought to have made, considerable wealth.

“I was a painter, not one that daubed on bricks and wood,

But an artist, and for my age, was rated pretty good.
I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes.

“I made a picture perhaps you’ve seen, ’tis called the ‘Chase of Fame’.
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name,
And then I met a woman… now comes the funny part–
With eyes that petrified my brain and sunk into my heart.
“Why don’t you laugh? ’tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me;
But ’twas so, and for a month or two, her smiles were freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine, it carried me to Heaven.

“Boys, did you ever see a girl for whom your soul you’d give,
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor and a wealth of chestnut hair?
If so, ’twas she, for there never was, another half so fair.

“I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,

Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way.
And Madeline admired it and much to my surprise,
Said she’d like to know the man, that had such dreamy eyes.

“It didn’t take long to know him and before the month had flown
My friend had stole my darling, and I was left alone;
And ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished and was dead.

That’s why I took to drink, boys. why, I never see you smile,
I thought you’d be amused and laughing all the while.
Why, what’s the matter, friend?… there’s a tear-drop in your eye,
Come, laugh like me ’tis only babes and women that should cry.

“Say, boys, if you give me just another whiskey I’ll be glad,

And I’ll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad.
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score
You shall see the lovely Madeline upon the barroom floor.”

Another drink, and with chalk in hand, the vagabond began

To sketch a face that well might buy, the soul of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture… dead!

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Declamation Piece- Conscience
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz
I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears can’t bring back my sister to life. My being brought here by
my conscience. I want to ask forgiveness. But can she still hear? O heart, forgive me for what I
have done, please bring peace to mind.

Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to freshen my memories that her life perished because
of my selfishness.

She was my only sister. Since our childhood, I always believed that I was the favorite of our
dad. One night, while I was facing all about to the mirror, with my micro mini, I puffed powder,
when I saw Luisa’s face, reflecting in the mirror. “You can’t get out tonight, Lucille.” I heard a
threatening tone from her. I turned to her, but I can’t resist at her sharp stare at me. “And who
says so, my dear sister?” “We are to celebrate Momma’s death anniversary, you know that don’t
you?” In a relaxed and condescending voice, I replied “well I don’t care. I’m going out to party
tonight!”

Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted “Help Papa!” for I knew that it was he. I pulled my
hair, I tore my dress away as I was attacked by a squad of monstrous creatures. When the door
opened the site Papa saw was that Luisa was holding my neck who was trying to make a
rescue. But I cried so hard that made Papa grew to the height of anger. He threw Luisa to the
corner, where the head of my poor sister was hit at the edge of the chair.

I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful revenge. But when she lifted, I saw a different
sparkle in her tearful eyes. “Ha ha ha ha ha!” O my, Luisa, she went out of her mind. I was not
able to move, as well as Papa. Both of us were motionless. And before we returned to our
senses, Luisa ran to the door and proceeded to the open gate of our house. We followed her
calling out her name. “Luisa!” “Sister!” “Luisa” “Sister” “Luisa the Truck!” “Don’t cross the
road, Luisa, the truck don’t Don’t DON’T!”

The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown five meters away from the truck. I ran to her and
embraced her. Blood was all over her face. In a low but distinct voice she murmured, that made
my heart break so much. She said, “Lucille, please be a good girl. I love you. Please be a good
girl ‘coz Papa loves you very much.”

“Luisa? Luisa? Sister… sister!!!” From that moment I cried so hard for killing my only sister, who
loved and cared for me, even at the last moment of her life.

Now can you blame me, for asking God to forgive me? Forgive me dear God, Forgive me!

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Declamation Piece- Murderess
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

It’s already twelve o’clock. Oh, God, I’m hungry! I’ve been running and hiding for almost three
days. I’m dead tired. I need some rest. But no, they are looking for me! And if they find me, I will
be put to jail. But, where can I hide? Leo’s father is so influential, so powerful. He is the governor
of our great province and I happened to kill his son!

No, don’t accuse me like that! I’m not a murderess! Hear me, I’m begging you, I tell you I’m not a
murderess.

Audience, let me explain, please.

Okay, okay, okay! It all happened in school one day. I went to the library to find a book. Then I
found it. I got so engrossed to what I was reading that I almost didn’t notice the time. It was gone
past six and, oh my! I think I was the only student left in the library. To my dismay, Leo was
waiting for me outside. I wanted to hide but it was too late. He was already in front of me.

“Hi, Brenda! Can I drive you home?”

I shook my head irritatingly. My God, how I hate him! He often sends me scented love letters in
pink stationery which I sent back all unopened. He sends me roses and chocolates, too. They are
my favorites. I wanted so much to eat the chocolates, but I hate the person who gave them. So I
throw them into the trash. How could I ever get away from this guy?

“Hey, Leo, wait a minute! If you want to drive me home, thanks, but no thanks! I’m old enough to
go home on my own, okay? So, please stop following me like a dog! And besides, I’m too young for
love and I don’t accept any suitors, understand?”

“But, Brenda, I love you! Can’t you understand? I can give you anything you want. Say it and you’ll
have it. And, Brenda, remember, I can get everything I want by hook or crook. So you’d better be
good to me or else. Ha… ha… ha…!”

And he started laughing like a monster. I got so scared. I know how powerful his family was, but I
still insisted, “Leo, how can you be such a jerk? I don’t like you and I don’t love you. In fact, I
hate you! Now, will you leave me alone?”

But instead of leaving, do you know what he did? He pushed me so hard against the wall and
started kissing me. I was shouting for help, but no, no one was there!

“Somebody, help me, please! Please, please! Help! Help!”

Then he gave me a big, big punch on my stomach. Oh my God! It was painful!

But even before he reached for me again, I spotted a rusty knife and grabbed it.

“Now, Mr. Leo Monteverde, try to kiss me again, attempt to rape me again, and I will never ever
forgive you! Go to hell! Um… um… ummm!”

I didn’t know how many times I pushed the rusty knife in his body. Then I noticed something.
Blood, blood… there’s a blood on my hands!

Leo, Leo…! Oh, God! I killed Leo! No, I’m not a murderess! He was going to rape me and I just
defended myself. I didn’t mean to do it, I’m not a murderess! I’m not a murderess! But I killed
Leo…! I killed him! I’m a murderess! Ha! Ha! I’m a murderess! Ha! Ha! Ha!

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Tags: love letters, murderess
Declamation Piece- Despair of Judas
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

I will rest here, awhile. His face! His face! Not comely now. There is no beauty in it. It is scarred
into my heart. It is burned into my soul and never will it lift from me until I die. Die? Will death
quench the flames which consume me? Traitor, not endless years in hell can even pay the crime of
murdering the son of God.

And last night, he dealt with me so gently. He washed my feet. He bade me to put my hand into
the cup with his, while in my purse there jingled the coins which bought his blood. It was better
for that man that he had never been born. Who? Who but I, who but I, I who betrayed him!

“What you do, do it quickly.” He knew, and kept my sin a secret.

“Friend, where unto have you come, Judas, Judas, do you betray the Son of God with a kiss?”

Friend! Friend! He called me his friend. The man I betrayed called me his friend. How hell must
have laughed. Why did not the mountains fall on me?

Why did not the earth gape and swallow me up? Why did not the sea overwhelm me? Friend. Ha!
Ha! Friend. Ha! Ha! Ha! The world will know Judas as the friend.

The world will point to Judas as a by word, and as a pledge of broken faith!
Do you think Judas you can hide from the father of your friend Jesus? Not even in hell can I
escape. Not in the grave for the earth will spurn my corpse. Not in the heavens for Jesus the
friend is there.

What hope for Judas? What hope for Judas? Not even in hell can I escape for he called me devil,
and devils cried out: torment us not, Jesus, Judas, faithless friend, devil, one of whom it would
have been better not to have been born.

There is no hope for you, no hope, no hope…

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Tags: broken faith, religion
Declamation Piece- Dirty Hands by John P. Delaney S.J.
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

I’m proud of my dirty hands. Yes, they are dirty. And they are rough and knobby and calloused.
And I’m proud of the dirt and the knobs and the callouses. I didn’t get them that way by playing
bridge or drinking afternoon tea out of dainty cups, or playing the well-advertised Good Samaritan
at charity balls.

I got them that way by working with them, and I’m proud of the work and the dirt. Why shouldn’t
I feel proud od the work they do – these dirty hands of mine?

My hands are the hands of plumbers, of truck drivers and street cleaners; of carpenters;
engineers, machinists and workers in steel. They are not pretty hands, they are dirty and knobby
and calloused. But they are strong hands, hands that make so much that the world must have or
die.

Someday, I think, the world should go down on its knees and kiss all the dirty hands of the working
world, as in the days long past, armored knights would kiss the hands of ladies fair. I’m proud of
my dirty hands. The world has kissed such hands. The world will always kiss such hands. Men and
women put reverent lips to the hands of Him who held the hammer and the saw and the plane.
His weren’t pretty hands either when they chopped trees, dragged rough lumber, and wielded
carpenter’s tools. They were workingman’s hands – strong, capable proud hands.
And weren’t pretty hands when the executioners got through them. They were torn right clean
through by ugly nails, and the blood was running from them, and the edges of the wounds were
raw and dirty and swollen; and the joints were crooked and the fingers were horribly bent in a
mute appeal for love.
They weren’t pretty hands then, but, O God, they were beautiful – those hands of the Savior. I’m
proud of those dirty hands, hands of my Savior, hands of God.

And I’m proud of my hands too, dirty hands, like the hands of my Savior, the Hands of my God!

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Declamation Piece- Land of Bondage, Land of the Free
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

Once upon a time, the tao owned a piece of land. It was all he owned. But he cherished it, for it
gave him three things, having which, he was content: life, first of all, and liberty, and happiness.

Then one day the Spaniard came and commanded him to pay tribute to the crown of Spain. The
tao paid tribute. And he was silent — he was certain that he was still the master of his land.

The Spaniard became rich. But with riches, evil entered into him and he came to the tao a second
time. He read to the tao a formidable document saying: “According to this decreto real, which
unfortunately you cannot read, this that you have been paying me is not tribute but rent, for the
land is not yours but mine.” The tao paid tribute and said nothing … He ceased to be a freeman.
He became a serf. Still the tao held his peace. The rent went up and up. The tao starved.

And this time at last he spoke. Not in words, but with that rustic instrument with which he cleared
the land once his own — the bolo. He transformed it from an instrument of tillage to an
instrument of death, and with it drove away the stranger. Then he returned to his field saying:
“Now indeed shall I again be master of this land, once my own, but stolen from me by the trickery
of quicker wits than mine.”

But the tao was wrong. For the land had another master. This time not a stranger, but his own
countryman grown rich. The tao had a new name, kasama, which to us means partner, but which
to the tao meant still a slave, for once more he suffered from his countrymen the same things he
had suffered from the stranger: the rents, the usury, and all the rest of it.

Yes, the tao returned to his field thinking that he was free. But he soon discovered that he was
still a prisoner. His prison, a two-room shack, rent by every wind, without any comforts, except
that three families have there the privilege to starve. The tao’s home has become his very prison.
Its doors, if you can call them such, are wide open. It is a prison nonetheless. For the tao is bound
to it, not with chains of steel, but with a stronger chain — his honor. To this day, the tao remains
a slave, a prisoner of the usurer.
No wonder, then that tao, being a slave, has acquired the habits of a slave. No wonder that after
three centuries in chains, without freedom, without hope, he should lose the erect and fearless
posture of the freeman, and become the bent, misshapen, indolent, vicious, pitiful thing that he
is! Who dares accuse him, who dares rise up in judgement against this man, reduced to this sub-
human level by three centuries of oppression. The tao does not come here tonight to be judged —
but to judge! Hear then his accusation and his sentence:

I indict the Spanish encomendero for inventing taxes impossible to bear.

I indict the usurer for saddling me with debts impossible to pay.

I indict the irresponsible radical leaders who undermine, with insidious eloquence, the confidence
of my kind in our government.

You accuse me of not supporting my family. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.

You accuse me of ignorance. But I am ignorant because my master finds it profitable to keep me
ignorant. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.

You accuse me of indolence. But I am indolent not because I have no will, but because I have no
hope. Why should I labor, if all the fruits of my labor go to pay an unpayable debt. Free me from
bondage, and I shall prove you false.

Give me land. Land to own. Land unbeholden to any tyrant. Land that will be free. Give me land
for I am starving. Give me land that my children may not die. Sell it to me, sell it to me at a fair
price, as one freeman sells to another and not as a usurer sells to a slave. I am poor, but I will pay
it! I will work, work until I fall from weariness for my privilege, for my inalienable right to be free!

BUT IF YOU WILL NOT GRANT ME THIS … If you will not grant me this last request, this ultimate
demand, then build a wall around your home … build it high! … build it strong! Place a sentry on
every parapet! … for I who have been silent these three hundred years will come in the night when
you are feasting, with my cry and my bolo at your door. And may God have mercy on your soul!

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Tags: human-rights, politics
Declamation Piece- “I’ve been stood up on my
wedding day”
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz
I’ve been stood up on my wedding day! Have you thought of anything more tragic than that? Here
comes the bride, all dressed in white!” – – but where is the groom? My Jonathan?

Father’s eyes were apprehensive – – “Madeline – – this is preposterous! – – – Didn’t I warn you? Is
this what you call maturity and independence at eighteen? I guess we better hurry home!”

But this is not how playwrights picture love. Romeo died for Juliet, Pyramus for Thisbe, Han
Suyen called it a many splendored thing!” – – – And Princess Margaret gave up the crown for love!

Jonathan – – – wait till I get you. I am determined to pursue an unceasing justification of my

plight! I remember how I fought Father and Mother when first they refused our young
engagement. But how we talked to them about independence and youth’s self-reliance – – – of the
new breed, ready, willing and able not only to vote at eighteen but also get married at eighteen.

I imagine what my gang mates would say – – – “Poor Madeline, she was almost a bride – – -
!” “Jonathan must have found out that she’s a square!” And all Mother can say is – – “This is
most embarrassing!”

Indeed, it is. I should have joined the crusaders for blessed singleness. I should have noted what
my father confessor, Fr. Martin, said when I talked about Jonathan and marriage. “Madeline,
you’re not ready for it. I guess you have to listen to your parents this time!” But I didn’t!” I was
like a spoiled and stubborn child immensely carried away by the now-generations’ indefatigable
cry for self-assertion! I was like Jane Fonda speaking for the women’s lib movement.

That phone keeps on ringing. Alright, Mother, alright, I’m answering it. Hello – – – Hello – – –
Hello!! Don’t you darling me Mr. Jonathan Anderson – – – may I be privileged to know where were
you at nine o’clock sharp this morning? What? Do you know what you did? Well – – – if you don’t
– – – then, you’ll never knew!!!

I’ve been stood up on my wedding day because my groom forgot and fell asleep. Marriage at
eighteen – – – how do you like that?

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Declamation Piece- I KILLED HIM BECAUSE I LOVED HIM
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

Honorable judge, gentlemen of the jury, people of the Philippines judge me, am I guilty or not
guilty?
But before you sentence me to death let me tell you my story.

There was a young girl seventeen years of age with curvaceous body 36, 24, 26, a long hair and
sizzling eyes being rich as she was she studied at an exclusive school.

Oh my gosh! I met this guy, he’s the best player in our basketball team, and he’s the heartthrob of
our school. OH my gosh! His name? Guess what? who? Robbie Satillian isn’t sweet? Oh my gosh we
became friends. We became friends. Later more than that after one year of relationship, we
decided to settle down the marriage that cut-off the ties of our families and since his parents
disagree that’s why he was not supported on his studies. So I decided to give up my studies and
work as a sales lady in the supermarket.

Then one night he returned home, he asked for money but I can’t gave him for I just gave him last
night, so he walked out the door and the next day he returned home, he was cold as ever and hard
as a stone.

One day his graduation came I was so happy. I expected

Robbie to invite me but he never said a word. I didn’t mind it. I still attend his graduation
ceremony and when his name was called with a degree of medicine a suma cum laude Robi
Santillan, I shouted with glee! When i stood up I was shocked when another girl stood up, and gave
that medal to him. I’m supposed to give that medal and pin that ribbon, because I’m his wife, I’m
his wife right? I AM HIS WIFE!

With that unpleasant thought fain when he returned home that night, I confronted him. “Robbie,
who was that girl?” I asked. He answered, “It’s none of your business” he said but Robbie I’m your
wife, “You’re just my wife” Robbie how could you do this to me? I gave up my studies and worked
as a sales lady and this? This is how you payback? “I have to leave”, he said and when he had
packed his this things I decided to get my 45 mm revolver.

“Robbie, you can’t just leave me” (pointing the gun to his face) “You can just leave me, Robbie.”
“You can’t just do this honey. be calm, be calm”…….”No, no, no you can’t just leave me, Robbie.
You can’t just do this”.

But he still decided to go and I did threw worst in my whole painstaking life “Mr. Robbie Santillian
with a degree of medicine a Suma cumlaude you will pay all my labors and sacrifices

“BANG! , BANG! I shot him Robbie…….I had killed him…….I had killed him with my bare hands…..
huhuhu… I’m so sorry.

And now honorable judge gentlemen of the jury people of the Philippines judge me am i guilty or
not guilty?
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Tags: graduation ceremony, sales lady
Declamation Piece- “JUVENILE DELINQUENT”
JUN 1

Posted by jhonerliz

Am I a juvenile delinquent? I’m a teenager; I’m young, young at heart in mind. In this position, I’m
carefree; I enjoy doing nothing but to drink the wine of pleasure. I seldom go to school, nobody
cares! But instead you can see me roaming around. Standing at the nearby canto (street). Or else
standing beside a jukebox stand playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are the reasons, why
people, you branded me delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected me. One night
I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life. Would you care what she told
me? “Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to dress up for my mahjong session, some other
time my child”. I turned to my father to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me.
“Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers that question”.

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing me with these
words. “Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100 by 5! Go home and plant
sweet potatoes”.

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But that’s not what
you can see in me.

Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to enlighten her way and guidance to strengthen her life
into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a juvenile
delinquent?.
HOOKED IN DRUG (declamation piece)
HOOKED IN DRUG
My hands, my arms, my head, my body. I am shivering. I am trembling, what is happening.
Yeah, mom's jewelry box. I need it. I must get it. yes, I need several thousand of pesos to sustain
me, to give way to my vice. Do you hear that? I need money for cocaine, I am helpless drug
dependent.

It started out with a simple invitation to experience what is new. Little just little, once just once
... until I started yearning for it. Until I find out I cannot stand without having it more often.

Dad is too busy with his political career, wooing people to vote for him in a congressional seat in
our province. Mom was equally occupied to grace the local dailies for her charitable projects left
and right. I was left alone all to myself. It was only yaya who kept me company, pampering my
every need. Cars, money, good time, all I wanted. Name them, I get them. Tired with all these I
looked for more until I explored drugs with Fred, my friend. I started to change from good
reserved individual to an out-going, happy go lucky. I became an illusive lawbreaker with dad
and mom's influence.

What? Do you know if this ever made happy? No, I am not. I want peace I don't and cannot find
peace. The urge to use drug becomes so strong and irresistible. This is the best escape I find over
the emptiness and unworthiness of my wasted, meaningless and aimless existence.

Do you understand I want to change but I cannot. All I need is to end my life. This is truly a
useless life.
Goodbye beautiful life, beautiful world. Goodbye Dad and Mom I don't deserve you (bang,bang)

FAKE (declamation piece)

FAKE
I got this smile, I skip and I play like a kid.
I'm happy. People think i'm optimistic, talented and smart. I am religious. I have many friends.
Do I look like that? Do I? I hope you're convinced by this synthetic, this fake smile of mine. Most
people envy how perfect my life is. How I don't have problems and how I seemed to be fine with
everything.
But am I?

I always smile and agree to everything request. To be fine with everything my so called friends
wanted. Do they know that all they're seeing is fake?

A mask of fake happiness and glee. That the only reason is, I cannot say no. have they thought of
my feelings? are they even my friends?

That every time I see them, I have this smile that no one ever dared to disbelieve.
This sense of optimism everyone envies? It's all superficial. In fact, all I think of is sadness,
despair, hate, and often I just can't go on anymore. Does anyone know that? Once I told my
mom to cut the afternoon church club meetings, Guess what she bladed?

No God will be disappointed to you, she said.

I wanted to reply "Well if you put it that way" or "Sure make me feel guilty. Do I have a choice?"
but all I can do is agree and pretend I didn't ask anything.

The Saddest part is with all the masks, my disguises, my covers. . .all the lies. . .Everyone seems
to believe. No one knows how gloom, how depressed. . .unhappy I am. No one, none of you
people.
None of you dare to doubt
I don't know. . .I if I still know who I am beneath.
Is it even there? I don't know.

The LOST GIRL

The Lost Girl
by Dhang

I am a girl, young in heart and in mind… I am carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but play,play and
play…I seldom go to school but hmp! nobody cares! Instead,you will see me roaming
around standing at the nearby canto, or hanging around at the sari-sari store standing beside
the jukebox stand…

One day I asked I asked my mother to teach me how to behave,to live, and appreciate all
the beautiful things in life.

Would you like to know what she told me?

She said…
" Can’t you see, I have to hurry up for my majong session! "

So I turned to my father to console me. But what a wonderful world word he did tell me…

" Child, I have to finish my overtime work…Here’s 500 pesos, go and ask your
teacher about that question…"

Sadly,I attended my class… But I heard nothing but the echoing voice of my teacher,torturing
me with her words…

" Hey yo lazy girl! Why waste your time studying those things? When up to now
you can’t even multiply seven by nine? Go home and don’t bother me!!!"
I am lost…confused…I don’t know what to do with myself…
Where are my parents to guide me?
My teachers to give me inspirations?
My friends, when I play? I’m lazy and irresponsible.

When I try to study, I get punished for not being able to answer.
Where now…I’m confused…
Somebody, please help me…
You say that the world is beautiful, why is it treating me this way?
Hear me please!
Help me please!
Help me…
I am lost…

A CALL FOR MOM AND DAD (declamation)

A CALL FOR MOM AND DAD

Ring... ring... ring... is it the phone? My, it's two o'clock in the morning yet. But wait. It is Dad. Has he
just got home from the business meeting, maybe... poor Dad! He works so hard for Mom and me.
I walked on tiptoe to the door ( another honking was heard ). Oh, is it Mom? Yes and what happens? She
looks drunk, swinging her way to the sala.

All I hope was to give them surprise but I get, instead the biggest surprise in my life. Dad, my hero leads
a Cassanova lifestyle: wine, women and party. And Mom, the lady behind the recent fund raising
campaign is the exact opposite of the image she projected in that last week's PTA event. A cheat, a liar.
How could they do this to me? "You brute," Mom shouted, You think you can always hide things from
me? I saw you with your secretary," and she started throwing things at Dad.

"Stop that, Matilde." And he pushes Mom hard enough to the wall.

Is this the home I was eagerly looking forward to return for a vacation? And Dad, is he worth emulating?
My Mom, what has gone with her? I got out from my place.

Mom, Dad what's wrong? Benjo, good you are here. Dad managed to say. We can no longer go on this
way anymore. It's no use of hiding things from you I must confess. I love you son. You are the only
reason of my staying here. Now it is for good. I must leave the house. Son, please understand. He went up
and in an instance he came down with his luggage. Mom seemed to be in the state of shock. All she could
do was cry.
Benjo, my son. I can no longer hide the truth. Your Dad and I are never happy. We have to part ways.
Please, Son try to understand.
I bite my lips to hold my tears but I held Mom by shoulders. Mom, why has this happened to us? Have
you ever thought of the effects on me? That happened a long time ago.
I do not know where Dad is now. It took me long to gather the prices of my broken dreams. All I know is
I am very much affected by what happened to us.

To you fathers and mothers present in this hall now, I challenge you to step forward to prove you are not
cowards like my own Dad. I challenge you mothers to stay firm and unwavering, never to let your family
break.

THE PAINS OF GROWING UP (declamation)

THE PAINS OF GROWING UP
A child, aged three, in short pants was holding a balloon with his right hand and ice cream cone
with his left. He was running aimlessly while the father followed. Shouting, kicking, crying
boisterously. That was then, a few years ago, but it was just faint memory. Yes, for that boy some
years back was I. Dad and I used to be great pats ceases to be now. We are at a distance from
each other. He talks, I do not listen. I explain he does not admit. . . And this is just one phase of
growing , a painful process of change.

My friends, any change is not easy at all.

"My son", I remember Dad admonished, "you get to be different. You are a grown up child now.
Don't be hard on your younger sister. Don't hit her anymore," he said, when I once hit Alice.

A grown up I mused to myself so I can now go to Disco join friends and have the real taste of
life". But he again interrupted, "My son, remember you are still young, a little boy".

A grown-up or a little boy. . . who am I really, an adult or a little boy?

Life is a series of surprises. What I used to enjoy when I was a kid will no longer be the same.
Eventually and gradually things will take a shift. Doing things with Dad's assistance will slowly
mean doing it on your own. Taking a risk may mean Yes; that's ok; or no, you should learn
better, next time. Less supervision but more reprimands. . . failure of success I am starting on
my own. Discovering things, using my discretion, deciding by myself are all parts of this painful
process. I fail occasionally. I get discouraging remarks. I learn new ways. I experiment with peer
groups. These characterize a teenage life. A bandwagon I am, I like to be equal with my
members. What they have, I must also; what they do too. And to all these Dad prones, Mom
disapproves, society condemns. . .

As I feel my way to independence in the little part of my brain, I have some reservation. . .
What? Will this ever win my old's approval?

If not them misunderstanding is possible. Human as I am go against their standards different

from mine. Inexperienced go against their standards different from mine. Inexperienced as I am
I react opposite to what they expect to me. Uncertain as I am, I refrain to conform to what they
desire. As a result we end up hostile to each one. Disobedient, recalcitrant and stubborn, they
brand me. I feel short, misunderstood and unloved, I find solace and approval with my peer.
They understand, they accept me because we have similar standard, we have the same world.
they like me because we very well approve each other.

I want to be on my own, my parents are not ready to accept this fact. A child no more, an adult
neither, I feel lost. We became alienated from each one. Growing is really painful just as
advancing in years for parent is so.

All I ask of you is continue holding me- I still need you. Open communication line. Stop filling
my days with 'Don't and No'. Listen to my unworded desire. You will always be part of me. Let
us both put life and love to our days as we journey together to the mystery of life.

I WISH I WERE NOT BORN (declamation

piece)
I WISH I WERE NOT BORN
I walked on tiptoed. Dad must be home now. How my heart bleed when Mom left him for
abroad. No amount of mom's explanation could appease my anger. Why did she do this? My
poor Dad! now I see every reason why he has to come home late, why he has to drink. He must, I
even told myself. He deserves to give way to his emotions.

I walked quietly and slowly turned in the door knob. The greatest secret unfolded before my
naked eyes. I caught Dad in a very compromising situation with our driver. My whole world
shattered; my knees trembled. Discovery even made it more shocking. Dad is a homosexual!
What is this? I shouted.

I wish I were not born. Damn you! And I ran as fast as I could. That was many years ago.

I wanted to end my life. I was like a little kitten with no one to turn to. Helpless and confused I
started to pick up every piece of my broken life. The father with whom I should feel secure and
protected failed me a hundred times. He did not have the arms to protect me from harm.
Instead he brought me shame and untold misery. The mother whom I need to embrace to
strengthen me and love me left. Parents, why do you fail me? Where else can we find solace in
our dark moments of despair? What have you done?

BAD GIRL (declamation)

Bad Girl
Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..
You! You! All of you!
 How dare you to stare at me?
Why? Is it because I’m a bad girl?
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a problem child?
That’s what you call me!
I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age.
I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.
Yes, I’m a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society where I live?
Look…look at me…What have you done to me?
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you

most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was much lower than mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling session…
Thus… I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father’s love, yearning for a mother’s care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong tables, bars and night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the newspaper as crooks, pedlars and

racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future…
Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you…
Protect me from all evil influences that will threathen at my very own

understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you’ve got to help me!
Help me! Oh please…Help me!

FIVE LOAVES OF BREAD

Five Loaves of Bread
She stood at the bar of justice
A frightened creature wan and wild—
In form too small for a woman,
In feature too old for a child.
For a look so worn and pathetic
Was stamped on her lovely face
It seemed that years of suffering
Was something time couldn’t erase.

“Your name?” asked the judge as he eyed her.

“Is Anna Ruiz, Sir,” said the girl.
“And your age?” asked the judge again,
Then girl replied, “I’ve turned fifteen.”
 “Well Anna, I’m sorry to say,
That you have been charged today
By your town baker who said,
That you stole five loaves of bread

Do you know that stealing is bad?

And that you have displeased our God?
Do you know that you could be jailed?
And cannot be set free or bailed?”
“Your Honor, I know it was wrong,
But day in and out I walked along
Looking for work so I could earn
Even hard jobs, I’m willing to learn.

But fate’s unkind, my father is dead,

My mother is sick and lying in bed,
My brothers and sisters missed six meals,
They asked for food with eyes full of tears.

What could I do to save them from death?

I myself was losing my breath—
So I took the five loaves of bread,
But I’ll pay with services instead.”

There was silence in the courtroom,

That was suddenly filled with gloom.
The women wiped their tears away,
They heaved a sigh and tried to pray.

All dug into their pockets,

And then brought out their wallets
Sounds were heard of golden coins that fall
Into boxes passed around the hall.

The baker stood up and told the judge

“Your Honor, I’m withdrawing my charge.”
A rich lady gave Anna a job
That helped her and all that she loved.

Adopted from
Guilty or Not Guilty

THE PANG OF MISFORTUNE (Declamation)

THE PANG OF MISFORTUNE
 Klang. Klang. That's the signal, yes, two hours more is
left. Do you hear that? At four this afternoon I will have my
rendezvous with death at the lethal injection chamber. I pledge
guilty to drug trafficking and multiple murder. I know I deserve
that ultimate capital punishment, but listen to my story. You
too have a share in forming me into a hoodlum in this dog eat
dog world.

I was a matter of fate by destiny that I grew up in an

area fast a accelerating in this orbit of moral decadence. My
mom died a few days after my birth. Lola brought me up as dad, a
policeman was a footloose and fancy-free family man.

Outcast yes, I am , a bitter pill to swallow but more

bitter than this was the pang of rejection. Dad disowned me for
the reason he alone knew. Society condemned me fo mom's
indiscretion, a fault not of my own making.

I did not ask to be born but they gave me life just to

wallow in poverty, in shame and in anger. All around me were
dark shadows of frustrations: pre-marital sex, women of loose
morale in heavy make-up, indecency, gambling, vices of all
kinds, graft, corruption. Name them and we have them all in our
place.

At first, I lived as an errand boy then as a messenger for

this oldest trade of flesh to sustain a living. I graduated to
selling prohibited drugs while sniffing once in a while to get
into the world of make believe to escape reality of life. That
was how life was with one like me who has no choice but to stay
living that hard way.

One night, in my usual routine I had some small packages

of prohibited drugs to deliver to my valued clients. I was
intercepted by a man in uniform and was consequently caught in
the act. i could do nothing more but to face the situation.
Instead of submitting myself peacefully to the authority I
managed to grab the revolver and shot him flat dead. Once ,
twice, until several policemen came to his succor. I shot
aimlessly not minding anymore who might get hurt until I no
longer knew how many lives were lost.

God forgive me! But you people of the Philippine Republic

who accuse me of drug trafficking and multiple murder I also
accuse you before the seat of the Most High, God the all
knowing, all wise Judge for:
 - having failed me with our lawmakers who themselves are
law breakers,
- having taught me life's bitterness just with your words
not coupled by your witnessing,
- having done nothing to fight moral decadence that has
swept and pestered our country now.

I know I have but few minutes to live. Before I submit

myself to face the Maker, I ask you People of the Philippine
Republic to atone for passive participation in the mess and
corruptionour country is faced with. Do something to save our
country, save the Philippines, save our youth. Capture the lost
values through moral recovery.

OUR HOUSE WILL NEVER BE A HOME

(declamation piece)
OUR HOUSE WILL NEVER BE A HOME
"Kring-kring, kring-kring, kring-kring" the alarm clock ringing on my side. Suddenly, I heard
my mother's voice "Ana, Ana wake up its already 9 am in the morning", mother said.

"Here you are again waking me up, its been a week since you were here coming back in the
Philippines bagging my whole life into disaster, I wish you weren't my Mother, 10 years of
abandoning me? Then suddenly you came? What for? Ruining my life into mess?"

Knock- knock....A sweet voice came out as the door open " Ana, Ana my dear your late , aren't
you supposed in the school by this time?"
I remember when I was young so witty but pretty. My Mother used to play piano, and I sing and
sing as my father lift me up. I was ten years. . . . a long darkened side of my life. I heard a Bang
bang bang, a gun, Yes a gun. . .Blag. . .as I raise my eyes I saw him lying on the floor. Red red
red, a blood, Yes a blood running from my fathers lifeless body, my Father died because of her.
Yeah because of her, because of her. . .
Our house will never be a home, it's been 5 months when I was here, hahahaha, hahahaha. I was
here because of her.
I was on Mental Institution because of her. I found a house that can never be a home
hahahahaha, hahahaha. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang countless shots coming from a gun, I raise
my head and look on the floor, I saw my mother lying on the floor together with her fresh
blood!!! Yes! Yes! I kill her. I kill my own Mother hahahaha, hahahah. . . . .tear. . .tears. . .
suddenly fell on my eyes. . .What for? Aren't I am happy now I kill her, she kill him, I am left
behind in a house that will never be a home.
AM I TO BE BLAMED ( declamation)
AM I TO BE BLAMED
They're chasing me, they're chasing, no they must not catch me, I have enough money now, yes
enough money for my starving mother and brothers.

Please let me go, let me go home before you imprisoned me. Very well, Officer? Take me to your
headquarters. Good Morning Captain! no captain, you are mistaken. I was once a good, just like
the rest of you here. Just like any of your daughters. But tome was. when I was reared in slums.
But we lived honestly, we lived honestly in life. My father, mother, brother, sister and I. But then
poverty enters the portal of our home. My father become jobless, my mother got ill. The small
savings that my mother had kept for our own expenses was spent. All for our daily needs and her
medicine.

One Night, my father went out, telling us that he will comeback in a few minutes with plenty of
foods and money but that was the last time I saw him. He went for another woman. If only I
could lay my hand on his neck, I will wring it without pain until he breaths no more. If you were
in my place, you'll do it , won't you captain?

What? You won't still believe me? Come and I'll show you a dilapidated shanty by a railroad.

Mother, Mother I'm home, Mother? Mother?!

There captain, see my dead mother, captain!

There are tears in your eyes? now pack this stolen money and return it to the owner. What good
would it do to my mother now? She's already gone, do you hear me? She's already gone. Am I to
be blamed to the things I've done?

LRT BOMBING
LRT BOMBING
Bread. Bread. . .spare me a piece of bread. Believe me, I don't want to society but fate dooms me
to this deplorable situation.

We used to be a happy family. Dad was a good provider until that pitiful day in May. All I could
remember was Mom crying over the sad news of Dad's untimely death. He died in an airplane
crush and his remains was nowhere to be found.

Mom gallantly took her responsibility as our guide and provider. Benjo, Mom and I made up the
happy family we were once.

A day before New Year, we took the LRT to evade the heavy traffic. I was in pink dress, matched
with a pink ribbon. As I mused with towering edifice on our way to lola, a great Commotion
ensued. Mom embraced me tightly to shield me from apparent danger. Everything went fast.
BOOM. . . A DESTRUCTIVE EXPLOSION WENT OUT.

"RIZZA, take care," she said and finally loosened her hold on me. Her look was gloomy and
slowly she closed her eyes as she gave forth her last.

"Mom." I cried out loud as I struggled to get out from the broken seat. As I looked at the crowd, I
saw everything in disorder; people in commotion and crimson blood oozed from my Mom's
forehead.
"Mom," I cried bitterly embracing her lifeless body. Everything went dark, darker until I found
myself in a hospital. Worst, Benjo was nowhere to be found.

What awaits a small, incapable girl like me. Nothing but a the bare truth of misfortune-darker
than the hundred nights. . . uncertain than a thousand blank reality.

Bread, bread. . . give me a piece of bread.

TOO HIGH A PRICE (declamation)

TOO HIGH A PRICE
Oh Joey, Joey, Joey, You're dead. This cannot be. Heavens! I can't believe it. He is still too young
to die. Joey, No, no. Joey is now dead, gone.

My kid bother is gone. He died of poisoning and this can happen to any of you. Listen.

No, no never, over my dead body. you cannot sell that piece of land. That has been the land
cultivated by my father's father. That's the very means I sweated my blood on to send you all to
college. Never. That was the firm and final say of Lolo regarding a two-hectare rice field right
after the Taiwanese factory in our small barrio. That happened some two years ago. Joey and I
were still small but we understood how much that piece of land meant to Lolo. After his death
dad in exchange for a fat sum money traded it just the same.
Now with this, gone are the green pastures and the rich vegetation with an equally fresh river
where fish used to swim.Gone is the vast habitat of the birds and their young ones. Gone is the
fresh air which abounds plenty.

But with Dad got a fabulous L-300, a luxurious dwelling and a big savings account to several
figures. Joey and I still miss the fruits bearing garden, the lovely little hill of wild flowers and
small fish pond where we usually spent our time fishing. All of these gone, occupied by the
Taiwanese factory now. All left to us is a small lot given to lolo's caretaker where Joey and I still
go for a visit.

The fresh dancing water is no longer free from pollution; aquatic lives start to die. Toxic
materials coming from factory flow freely to the river, poisoning every creature depending on it.

And worst of all, that pitiful Saturday morning, Joey my kid brother, brought home a big mud
fish. He had it cleaned and broiled it. He had just finished a few bites when he felt unusual all
over himself. He felt splash of warmth all over his body; his face reddened as he writhed in pain.
We all panicked at the sight of a young helpless boy dying of toxic. How he cried in anguish, and
how Mom shouted in despair. But all were to no avail. Joey had to go, my only brother had to
leave, so fast, so swift.

Yest that piece of land lolo refused to sell, that piece of land is now polluted. It brought Dad a big
sum but a more precious one: joey's life was taken. It gave us L-300 but it could not even be in
service when joey needed it most. That big sum! Never did it cross Dad's mind that such cannot
even buy Joey's life. dad paid too high a price.

Now ladies and gentlemen, ia this what you call progress. . . . . .development over our own
welfare and safety? Enough is enough, you all cheat. nothing can compensate for the clean fresh
air we breath, it is now mixed with unsafe one coming from the chimney of that factory. Nothing
can ever replace the clean river where we used to fish, now damaged by factory waste; nothing
can ever pay the silence we are deadened by the day-in and day-out sound of the grinding
machine. . . . .Nothing and Joey paid all these with his young life.

My friends, dear everyone, give this a thought, a serious kind:In your decision to give us the
best, we consequently suffer. In your desire to provide us education we miss the most.

Please stop the killing. How many Joey's will pay for this?

THE PLEA OF AN ABORTED FETUS

(declamation)
THE PLEA OF AN ABORTED FETUS
Set me free. Let me live, I deserve to be born, I want to live. For heavens's sake, have pity.

Ladies and Gentlemen, dear fathers and mothers, listen to my plea, listen to my story. I could
have been the 17th Lady President of the Philippines Republic, had you given me the chance to
live, had you not deprived me of my life, had you not taken away my privilege to be born.

Some eleven years ago, a healthy ovum started to generate in the womb of a woman with six
other children. My coming should be a herald of joy, a symbol of love incarnate but to my
mommy it was a burden, a problem, an additional mouth to feed. To Dad, it was a mistake, an
effect of mom's carelessness for not taking the contraceptive pills.

One gloomy day in June, my unexpected coming was confirmed. It was a painful decision. I
could sense the imminent danger as Mom got inside the abortion room. I was an unwanted
child. no one loved me. No one cared. I was a rejected being, a tiny lump slowly forming into
human being with human soul. I was already beating and my thumb had already the unique
mark. As I was holding strongly to my mother's womb a splash of heat came over me. I writhed
in extreme pain.

-Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not the flesh of your own flesh, the blood of your
own blood?

The rubber suction caught my tiny limbs and mercilessly twisted it slowly cutting it from my
body. I struggled for my life. 1,2,3 and the first part of me came out.

-Mom, why have you permitted this? Am I not Dad's pledge of love to you? Then it was followed
by another rubber suction sucking the other part moving it with force until both were fully
amputated.

-Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not God's image you promised to love and protect?
Then I felt shaken once, twice, several times until I do not know anymore what has been going
around. I gushed forth my breath. . .

Then came the final blow, my head- the abortionist termed as No. I was totally cut from my
torso; total annihilation.

Gone is my chance to lead a healthy normal life.

Gone is my chance to behold the many lovely things God created for us

Gone is the promise of a blissful life.

Gone, gone forever.

BASTARD (declamation)
BASTARD
Penoy, Balot. . .Penoy, Balot.

Yes Penoy, Balot has been my means of livelihood.

I am Martha. Please listen to my story. Like you we may be both victims of circumstances. I was
born out a wedlock to a young colegiala who swayed off her feet when she became madly in love
with a young man of the flickerville.

Bastard, bastard, that's hoe they called me. Society condemned me for a crime not of my own
making but just a mistake by destiny. I have never felt what a father's love was and worst of
them too much misery drove my mother out of her sanity. I was oftentimes beaten mercilessly
for every little misdeed.
One evening I got home late. Right at the door mother was there with her long stick. Without a
word she hit me mercilessly.

"Please, mother, stop it. I beg you." I was alt\ready bleeding until I could no longer take it.
Before I knew it, I felt blood oozing on my forehead. Crimson Blood!

"Mother, why do you do this to me."

But that didn't stop her. She got the bolo and was about to strike me that I ran as fast as I could
to save my life. All i know was a speeding car went between us. . .SHHHHH
When I turned my back I saw Inay lay helplessly.

"Inay", all I could say. I ran back to embrace the lifeless body of Inay.

"Good lord! Why did you permit this- You are my mother. Inay, I love you inspite of what has
been.

I KILLED HER (declamation piece)

I KILLED HER
I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that gives life to many, killed her
because of my love to her.

Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my story before you
give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum district of Batalon, My
father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith. My mother brought me up in such
determination and my ambition was to escape the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was
nourished with hope that someday I might live a life different from her. My mother had burning
faith that she turned the nights into days. All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through of
flying colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she pinned
the gold medal on my proud breast.

Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the Unites States of America, I embraced
my mother. . .tightly as I've reached the plane. . ."Mother, mother", I whispered "you will always
be my best mother in the world."

After four years, I come back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my mother
everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many, came too late to the life of
my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the grasp of death was so tight around her. My
God, what is the use of ten years of study if I couldn't even use it at my mother's pain.

Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me child?", she asked.
As I embraced her "Yes, mother. . .If only O could get all your pain and agonies. . ."
"Then. . .If you love me, end my sufferings, kill me. . .let me die"
"But , mother, I promise to give life and not to end it"
God . . .she did not deserve to unhappiness. She deserves to be happy.
I run to my room and come back with a syringe
"Mother, forgive me. . .God, please understand me"
"Mother,mother, you must not die. . .Don't leave, I love you. It was only a distilled water. . .
Mother. . . Mother. . . Mother. . . Mother. . ."

Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, It was only a distilled water which ended the
suffering of my mother.
Judge me. . . Punish me
So, punish me. . . Thy will be done!!!