A poem I wrote

This is a poem that is dedicated to the part of my country that nobody wishes to see, but is there. Highlight the script

Gloriosum est 
By: Alfredo Kuylen

L
ong ago when they were here,
And with their all seeing eyes, oppressed us;
We trembled with a terrifying fear,
Waiting for their lash of fate upon us;
Subjugating us, as the Romans did, 
To their every whim.

“Gloriosum est iniurias oblivisci!” They proclaimed.

O
ur souls with a hunger for emancipation,
And our hearts ready for the cost,
We held our fists high for renovation,
And made our oppressors flee to the dust;
In an island far away, 
Where they had lead others astray.

“Gloriosum est iniurias oblivisci!” We abjured. 
U

pon this soil, with our heads held high,
We have forgotten our oppression,
Even though, it was nigh;
We head towards our self-destruction,
Subjugating with paper, and deceit;
Oppressing ourselves due to differences.

“Gloriosum est iniurias oblivisci!” We adopted.

T
he contradiction of our anthem,
And the shame of our forefathers toil;
We tarnish our emblem,
And throw our flag to the soil;
The soil where they once lived,
And repeating  what history did.

“Gloriosum est iniurias oblivisci!” 
‘It is glorious to forget injustice!’ 
The lout’s recurring errs.