Pakistan's Disease

Outrage. Condemn. Forget.

The twisted priorities of my fellow inmates in the ideological prison of which once was Pakistan. Overrun by blood thirsty overlords that have greed in their viens. What we are left with is blood, blood of children, innocent blood, someone's pride and joy, someone's answers to prayers for God knows how long, someone's only hope for a future, sleeps now, taken away by men, worthless, vile, hideous.

Why dont we stop these men, the answer is so simple & in plain sight. Fear. Pakistanis have accepted their fate, they have accepted that these men, just few of them, have their dominion over us, to play with our blood, we have accepted that none of us is capable of standing up to them, just a few, who attack from the shadows, hiding behind hands of patronage from within us, it is the disease that has tainted our blood from within. We let it in, we nurtured it, and now it kills us one by one.

Thus the outrage, a temporary outburst induced by the natural human condition of empathy quickly surrenders to the disease from within, words of condemnation retain no meaning, stirr no soul, break no heart enough to make it stop.

The disease keeps spreading, from minerets, from sermons, from those who have become its personification, the most loathsome, wretched, foul creatures under the sky. This cancer that infects humanity needs to be ripped apart, its heads crushed, its parts ground to a paste, every single last one of them, every fibre of their being needs to be obliterated, wiped out from the face of the earth.

Thus a reckoning, is needed, but it will not come fom within a populous so inefected, for they are now powerless, too invested in their greed, ambition, or even ideological parity. For the true believer the answer is on the prayer mat. Others can try to change hearts by words. Try, but it will not work, it cannot work, for these hearts have turned to stone.

If the blood of an innocent child is not enough to melt a heart and stir it into action, nothing can.

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