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The Rooftop

by daniel-jay-mc-shane

He slowly assembles his rifle on the barren rooftop as the      wind blows through his light blond hair. His long overcoat flaps and wraps around his thin long     legs. He places his elbows upon the short wall in front of him,      firmly kneeling on both knees. Glancing into the rifle's sight, he focuses sharply through      its cross hairs; he sees hundreds passing through the sight,      men, women, children, and as he sees it, a maze      of mass hysteria. He thinks of his current desperate situation and with each      passing thought, his heart pumps more hateful      adrenaline through his expanding veins. What am I?....He wonders. "I am the orphan child too ugly to adopt! I am the spit in the street you step in and curse! I am the cockroach so many crush beneath their feet! I wish to love and beloved, for I am ever so lonely,      so empty. I wish to give my whole self to someone to make them      eternally happy! To sacrifice all I possess, including my life, for the one      I love, but I am thoughtlessly branded a stalker! I am the void in all broken hearts. As a child, I only wished to be loved and appreciated, but I was raised the invisible child. There's a painful sore in my throbbing brain, the lethal      virus of society'd disdain. I'm insane!....I'm insane!...Give me peace, God if you exist      Give me peace! He glances once again through the sight's cross hairs, catching sight of a young boy standing alone, mouth wide open     with tears rolling down his cheeks. He pauses.....envisioning himself, his blue eyes cloud      with tears. He pulls back back his loaded rifle placing it against the      short wall, realizing at the moment this wasn't the way to end his      unbearable pain. Reaching into his deep overcoat's pocket, his long fingers      catch grasp of the cool surface of a 9 mm. Pulling it slowly from his pocket, he raises it to his temple, slipping his finger upon its tight trigger he whispers once      again, "God....if you exist, Give me peace."
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Written by
daniel-jay-mc-shane
American
For You?
Written by
daniel-jay-mc-shane
American
Published
Dec 26, 2016
Time
4m
Notes

To explain this piece, I wrote it over 15 years ago. I was a child who was nearly beaten to death twice by the age of 5 years old. One thing I do remember was at the times I was being beaten, it was almost like I was observing it from outside my body. When I started school I was a skinny, poor, cross eyed kid who went from one beaten to another. I once wrote, that I was like Daniel walking into the lion's den, the kids hopped about me like kangaroos with wolves teeth, punching me, spitting on me, continuously mocking me. I became just a shell of a child and sadly hated myself like all others. Took me years to heal I was quiet, introvert, who couldn't even find a date; but with time, I grew stronger, for I had family that reached out and showed me I was more than a rag doll to to be tossed around. People, called me a saint and a great guy! But in the final summation, it was the bitterness of an unforgiven world and it's cruelty that made me a tortured soul, etched thoughts that bled into my wounded soul. I grew to love my father and I grew to see the good in people. I harbored physical and emotional scars that amazingly never weighed me down and when people spoke of the cruelty I suffered, it was a hind thought. It became someone else, not me. But realize that all people are molded with each day of their lives and that mold can always be molded to be destructive! Faith and openness are great healing tools, for confidence and soul.

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