The Young Politican Poem by Kavi Nepali

A product of the doubtful generation am I
My predecessors have left but a mess
A burnt nation I was handed
Divided, and raped
Thrown to me, as a rotted bone to a cur
A desperate cur at that
I cannot find the beginning and there seems to be no end
Betrayal, hated and sickness, that’s my inheritance,
This is the will they left
“Here you go” as they say “do your part, ” they urge
I tell them, with respect that is, I will give it a try
They laugh” try, he says, try, we said the same”
“But once the evil hand of power has corroded you
You shall be what we are, everything you hate right now”
“Never”, I swear at them, “never will I be you
Corrupted, deceitful and two faced”
All they do is laugh
Where do I start, I ask, where do I begin
The smiling wisdomless old are of no help
They die slowly, only to be born as insects further from “moksha”
And I promise myself to build, that which has been destroyed by all
To unite friend and foe, sons and daughters, dreamers
Of the a peaceful prosperous world
But where do I start?
When every problem intertwined
A root, stem of another and that a root of something new
Lies and disseat lead to more and all promises
Broken.
And I wonder where I start.