Carnage

This is my city! And I live in every part of it. Sometimes I am scared. Of walking where ever I like, of talking to and meeting my friends, of eating at my favorite places. Of seeing my brother going to school and my parents out for work. I see terror and resilience in every face around. Trying not to break. And I know they feel the same.

But it doesn't work to be afraid, does it? You know you have to go on. You know you have to keep walking, sometimes to your own death. You have to end up taking things lying down, by these bastards! We can't fight back because we don't know how to. How to eliminate these rats. How to rid the world of all the unwanted waste. How to stop our home being the soft target that it is! When all they do to return our courtesy is offer our massacre.

Why must I be vulnerable? Why must I wait for them to get me? When I have done nothing to hurt them. Why must I suffer for all their twisted reasoning and mindless, unjust preaching? For all the gullible, faceless people who end up believing. It does not seem fair! That some of the innocent kill, and the rest are killed. Only to feed a misplaced anger. With some burning passion for revenge. How does the killing of the nameless unknown satisfy that? I wish I could understand.

I look for guilt. They are strangers after all. With their fetters ablaze. There is no target, just an enclosing darkness. And the heavens crashing down, on them. Ferric and senseless.

I wish they would understand.