My hands are wet with blood. They are crimsoned with hte 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, elemntary 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 waht is now the dilapidated nipa shack that has been home to me.
I have but a few wordly possessions, mostly rags. My debts are heavy. They are sumtotal of my ignorance and the inspired arightmetic of my master, which I do not understand.
I labor lika slave and out of the fruits olf that labor, I get but a mere pittance for a share. And I have to stretch that mere pittance ot keep myself and my familty 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 say what I think is right, and free to worship God according to the dicatates of my conscience. But I do not understand the meaningof 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. 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 friends, I am a peace-loving citizen. I have nothing but love for my felowmen. And yet, why di 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 bein a servant. I could no longer suffer that htought of being perpetually a slave.
Here is another touching piece. This was also written by someone anonymous so I suppose it is alright to post this here for those who need a piece. I am still searching for the pieces that I have loved from childhood.