Life As A Writer

Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.

I won’t be coming back home, this is war and nobody wins. I’m stuck in a conflict that I can’t control or have the power to save my soul. I have no more motivation or desire to live from what I have seen. The terror is real on the other side, the monsters are real. When the enemy looked at me after killing my family, I knew he was giving me one more chance to see the permanent reminder of what has become a reality for the people I loved. And then, he pulled the trigger.
Michael Daaboul

The Genocide of Children

For all the world leaders who sit there in silence that say nothing and do nothing. Who start wars and don’t listen to their people.

For all the rebels and terrorists that think you’re doing God’s work and shattering human emotions.

For all the incapable nations that rise up against nations.

For all the rapes, abuse, the planes that get shot down, the wars that make it okay and justify ways to take life.

For every part of the darker side, you’re killing all the medics who are trying to save the wounded, all the journalists risking their lives to show us the news that’s in hiding, all the scientists that are researching to save lives and the parents and loved ones who are grieving for their murdered children, brothers, sisters, husbands, mums and dads.

You have failed us. You have broken our hearts, shattered our progress and repeated history over and over again. How do you still lead when you repeat mistakes over and over?

We trusted you to run governments to represent our views for a better life.

I want you to know about all the children who will never get to see another day in their lives. I want you to know what it feels like for a mother to never see her precious angel smile again or to hear their voice. You destroyed their future and their life. You shot down their hopes and blew up their dreams. What gives you the right to do that?

The children don’t understand what you’re doing. They don’t understand why there’s pain. They don’t understand why their kind is shooting at them. They don’t know why there’s blood coming out of their face, their soul. They trusted you to protect them. They trusted you. Instead you gave them genocide, soldiers with guns and tanks against children.

When you took aim at children playing on rooftops, did you know they were being children and enjoying their childhood? When you missed and they were running away, that fear embedded on every breath they took, you aimed again and got them. You single-handedly destroyed humanity. You fired at hope, at innocence and you took all of us out with them!

I hope one day we’ll wake up to a better world, where humanity is not devouring, illiterate bastards and we can walk to the graves of those innocent children that bled emotion, that didn’t understand what was going on and say sorry that we were unkind, incompetent human beings who denied them their right to live.

I don’t fear monsters in the night, I fear humanity and I fear the world we live in, people like you.

I will cry every night for these children because their pain and their parents pain hurts too much for words to carry. Human emotion has a way to express this heartache where no words dare travel; by our tears, when it’s too much, we breakdown.

I wish we could have been better for you, I wish mankind would have given you the chance to see the world we love and protected you.

I wish things were different.

When I didn’t have a full-time job or an evolving list of responsibilities, I used to love waking up in the morning where I could do whatever I want. Sleep in without having to think about work, or doing anything anyone requires of me. No pressure, nothing, just me doing me things. Sit down, not feeling rushed, drinking tea, reading a book, surfing the net, playing a video game and going out for a walk. In the day, we’re stuck at work, and apparently, that’s living, they even rose the retirement age.
Michael Daaboul
She was afraid of things that never happened. It continued to scare her; it didn’t matter how much you tried to reason with her or tried to calm her down. It wasn’t certain. She liked the warmth of the Sun because it was always there; she knew it will rise every day. She wasn’t afraid of the Sun; she didn’t have to worry about the Sun not rising the next day. With all her worries and fears, even though, most of them were imaginary, she still struggled to do the things she wanted to, like fall in love.
Michael Daaboul
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