Mr. President

Dear Mr. President, come take a walk with me.
Let’s pretend we are just two people, and you are not better than me.
I’d like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.
What do you feel when you see the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye and tell me why?
Dear Mr. President, were you a lonely boy?
How can you say no child is left behind?
We are not dumb and we are not blind.
What kind of father would take his own daughter’s rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter is she were lesbian?
I can only imagine what the First Lady has to say.
You’ve come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.
Let me tell you ’bout hard work.
Minimum wage with a baby on the way.
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away.
Building a bed out if cardboard box.
Let me tell you about hard work, hard work.
You don’t know nothing about hard work.
Dear Mr. President, you would never take a walk with me, would you?

Written by Tee.

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