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Mr. President,

I am 14 years old and my teacher said I could write you a letter. He said I could be honest with you about how I feel you have done as president. I will try.

You remind me of when I was younger and we had piñatas at my birthday parties. Me and my friends would hit the piñata over and over hoping it would open and spill the candy so we could start grabbing our share. Only sometimes the piñata wouldn’t break right away. We would watch our (mostly) blindfolded friends take a swing and expect that this time it would break, but that piñata would keep us waiting. We were pretty sure it would break soon, but it always lasted just a bit longer.

The weird thing, Mr. President, is that I’m not sure if you remind me of the piñata or if you remind me of my friends hitting it. The way you treat people, I think you’re the piñata and you deserve to get taken down, torn apart, and exposed for who you are. Or the way you are treating people, it’s like you are beating up on the country and at some point we are going to get taken down and torn apart. It seems like it’s going to be an ugly scene either way. Instead of candy coming out, I think it’s going to be some sort of chaos.

Recently, my friends and I have been concerned about the sea of plastic floating for miles in the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea. I have seen videos of these places and it’s sad for the sea life and for us and our future. I know you didn’t cause it, but it still makes me think of you. It’s sort of like the chaos I was talking about. And I started to think that something might be done about all that plastic when President Obama was president, but now I’m pretty sure no adult is going to do anything anytime soon. Maybe it’s just up to my generation.

Mr. President, mostly you just depress me. Yes, sometimes you get me mad, too, and I could list all the ways you have made me mad, but anybody who’s watching the news knows what I mean. You depress me because of the way you treat pretty much everybody. Some of my friends have seen your crazy texts and other comments and have started to be just a bit meaner. I can tell. I hate to think about how it could be in the future if a bunch of little kids grow up thinking that the way to treat people is the way you do it.

Here’s a poem I wrote for you.


We don’t want a military parade

It’s just a big charade

Use the money for common sense

We already spend too much for defense


We want more money for schools

So we don’t grow up being fools

Our teachers care about us, they do

So, I’m wondering, Why don’t you?


When we grow up, you will see

How good things can be

We will be in charge and undo

All the mean laws you put through.



Letters2Trump teen


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