I went out yesterday, to the inner city. My city, that from the outside flashes by like a green, glitzy, noisy blur that seems ideal. The city that seems to have a viable beating heart in the center, connecting all who live, dream and toil here everyday. I ventured into this sacred heart yesterday, as I have so many times before. And I saw everything I’ve always seen. Filth, degradation and extreme stupor of heartbreaking poverty.
And its not the city that’s the problem. Its my entire country, nearly every area, poorer than the last. Overpopulated, cramped, crammed with sweat, disease, and unemployed masses. If you take a stroll (ha!) by the old train tracks, you’ll find crooked brick houses pushed up against each other in a dance they wish they could end. The houses can’t breathe and it seems, neither can the people. There are corpses because of famine, and corpses because of disease, and corpses because of floods. Bloated bodies, shriveled bodies, hungry bodies.
And so, Dear Mr. President. Since you’ve allowed the situation to get this out of hand, I’d want a resignation. A stepping down, so maybe, just maybe you can put this country back on Marshall Law and into much more capable, less money hungry hands than yours. But obviously that cannot happen. You’re just too busy fulfilling your own needs: money, food, wishes, laundered away everyday.
Since you won’t resign, try changing. You might not have heard of the word, except in a negative light, but I assure you, it does exist. In fact, if you open a dictionary and try to look it up, you might just cross the illiteracy barrier that’s engulfed the country too. You might stop making shady deals with other countries’ investigative agencies, and focus on doing some good. If that’s not too foreign for you. That’s what everything comes down to, doesn’t it? This that foreign policy. Yes well, I’ve got a lot of local problems I’d like for you to look into.
I know you’re almost never in the country, but I am. We all are. We’re suffering while watching others suffer.
A hundred children are killed everyday, and the incident is hushed up. Have you ever visited their families? No, because you’re the one who ordered the massacre in the first place. And also because no one would want you in their home. I don’t even know if you can read this, but regardless.
Have a heart, man.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/12/19/daily-prompt-dear-leader/
Nayab Malik 
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