Life As A Writer

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

I’m alone and I feel the darkness of the night has come over me. Fear has taken my heart and everyone I know has run away. I hold on to my teddy and hold on so tight, I sing a song my mother used to sing to me when father wasn’t home to try and lie to me about how everything will be fine. I saw it in front of my own eyes when they took her. It’s not the night I’m afraid of, it’s the cowards in tanks, that have taken everything I have ever loved away from me.
Michael Daaboul
We’re at war again and they have fed us lies. The innocent die and those hiding wonder when all of this is going to end. It’s easy for us here to not listen to the bombardment of shells; it’s easy to forget the children who are covering their ears, shutting their eyes so tight. They will sit there not knowing why their mother and father had died, why their brother and sister have been wounded. And they have come to realise, they don’t ever want to know why, they just wanted everything to be alright.
Michael Daaboul
Will she go to Heaven; will you ever see her again? It makes you so angry the people in this world have forsaken you. You try to forget, but then it consumes your mind again and you remember it all. And you wish you had all the time once more, with her, just one more day. I want to know God, will I ever meet her again. You haven’t given me a sign and you have broken my heart again and again and you won’t tell me or end my misery, tell me, will I meet her again?
Michael Daaboul
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.

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