Dear President why?
You told us that churches would be opened.
And Mama smiled.
You told us that alcohol would be sold .
And Mama cried.
She thought of being a punching bag when Papa is drunk.
She thought of being called names when Papa is drunk.
Dear President I’m hurt by you actions.
Confused by your sayings.
How long must we watch Papa and his beatings?
When Papa is drunk he would beat Mama and I, and my 3 years old sister would cry holding Papa’s leg grovelling him to stop.
But him? He would carry on still.
Dear President if he does that again.
I promise that I’ll steal his gun blow him brains out.
Would you like that?
Yes I’ll be called a murderer.
Yes I’ll be the reason why Mama doesn’t have a husband.
But what I’ll bring at home will be peace and smiles.