And Manila seemed *****
not like New York or Philly,
like naked street-kids and yellow skies,
drooling stray dogs lost in wandering packs.

But we chose this home
and now it is that.

A studio apartment
high above the trash
and the slums down below
piled and stuck together
by sun melted ******* and dirt glue
greets their new neighbors.

I still think of
  How you built me up
  When I was feeling lonely
  In life's agony

I still hark back
  To the words that you uttered
  To the echo of your voice
  They're music to my tears

You took away the stings
  You covered all the scars
  All the hatred been replace
  By honesty and love

But the seasons went by
  And we also changed
  The feelings inside faded
  Deepest truths were revealed

No one ever imagined
  We could be a broken fiber
  But thank you for leaving
  Because today I choose to be me.

A land of false hopes and dreams
A land where nothing is at it seems
A place where people are blinded by the truth
A place where you get tricked
A place you'll be sick
A place where you are lost
A place where you are found
Welcome to this great city
A city that is hopeless
A city that will rise
A city where your heart sets ablaze
A place where you'll get amazed
A city where everything is bound to happen
A city where you seek your purpose
Manila, a city called Manila.

I like to imagine my body
****** and riddled with holes
across the sidewalk pavement
For nothing greater than for love
Love for the people I know
For the people I dont
For the hope that tomorrow,
There wont be another like me
For every martyr has a mother
And every mother needs her son

seventeen should be the age of learning and falling in love
but here we have a boy
whose life was taken
whose call for help was loud with all the might
that the wild heart of a 17 year old could ever have
tama na po!
may test pa po ako bukas!
and these calls ended
in gunshots
in fabrication
in ignorance
as if there had never been anybody like him who dreamt of a tomorrow.

and it is hard to silence anybody who's seventeen and just about to thrive
but here they pinned his wings
shot him dead and cold
never stopping to think that they were not the authors of his story
that they had not one right to end what could have been a beautiful story right there and then,
only a decade and seven.

seventeen should be the age of learning and falling in love
but not anymore;
it is the year he called out for his life
only to have it taken by the hands of the merciless
of those who do not know better—
all his wild dreams ending in silence.

At sa huli —
Ng sakit, ng pighati —
Ang tiwala ko sayo
Ay tuluyan nang naglaho.

there we were
in a café
enjoying each other's company

I looked to my right
and saw a Filipina lady
and a white man
eating their breakfasts silently

"she seems unhappy
and anxious"
I thought to myself

"*******?"
I asked my mother.
she says yes and nods.

I hope that one day
that lady won't have
to sell herself

to make a living.