The Despot


ONCE, THERE was a man who lived and ruled this land for twenty-one years with bloody, ironclad fists. This country was subjected to that man’s hands, and blood was spilled everywhere he wanted to spill it. It was a time of dreadful, murderous onslaught of a despot, the infamous despot of this country.

His name is Ferdinand Marcos, and today marks his first anniversary resting in peace at the Heroes’ Cemetery. There he lies down in tranquility, unlike so many of those he has slaughtered at his command. Up until now, thousands are still looking for justice for those killed, for those who disappeared and were never found. Many are recollecting the horrors of that epoch where anyone could be abducted any time to be incarcerated, to be questioned, to be tortured, and to be murdered. On this day, many are looking in fearful anticipation that a new despot will rise, but everyone promises that it will never happen again.

For all the lost bodies never found and justice presently sought for, for all the mistakes and sins that has not yet risen, for all the angry and lost souls seeking repose from the perdition the despot has given, the people promise to never forget. ADRIAN PAUL L. TAÑEDO


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