Dear Mr Trump,
I'm an illegal immigrant. Surprised I'm writing to you? Well perhaps you're more surprised that I can write at all. You see, I'm not just a brown-faced, piece of meat that you can bring in and out of your country.
Seems you think I'm a rapist and a murderer. Tell me how I have any "time to kill" when I'm cleaning your house and working on plantations day in and day out. May I remind you that it was America who came crawling to Mexico because your people were too good to work as field hands. Let me remind you that your meat packaging companies have set up a bus system where they pick up people from their homes in Mexico and take them to the US everyday to package your meat which I do not have the liberty of eating because I'm a dirty murderer. America is supposed to be the land of opportunity, the melting pot, the world of diversity. But because my skin doesn't match the color of chalk I am considered unfit to wear the red, white and shining blue. May I remind you that it was not the white man who settled here first. You tore the precious land from the hands of the Natives and slaughtered them as though you were entitled to do so. Latin Americans, illegal or not, make up almost a quarter of America's population.
If you would like to be our commander and chief, if suggest you get out vote and stop trying to pull out the shoulders of whom you stand upon. You'll find yourself failing fast and crawling on the pile of manure with the rest of us.
Sincerely,
Your Paid Slave
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Yo i need to chill
I hate Trump
-m
YOU ARE READING
Tales of a Neverland Lost Girl
General FictionThese are a collection of short stories, poems, monologues and whatever else I like that have been trapped in my head for a while. Xoxo
