Footsteps

Its raining now. I can hear it, the gentle taps against the vinyl roof. It sounds like hundreds of tiny people running. I want to go out and feel it. The cold sensation of water in my hair. Running down my face, it would be incredible. But I am stuck here, inside the warmth and security of this gentle prison.
I don’t know everything I think I do, but I understand enough to know that. I grew up to early. I felt burden before my innocence was used up. I took on responsibility before I was ready, I stopped playing and I miss my childhood.
I can hear the car splashing through the puddles outside now. Panic should be sweeping me. I wish it would. They’re leaving the car now. I can hear their hurried footsteps in the rain, like giants among the thousands of hurried tiny people .
I wish I had known my father. My mother always would speak highly of him, of how much I was like him. I wish I could remember his face. He was in World War 3, a paratrooper. They say that the paratroopers were either the most courageous or the most insane men. You’d have to be to jump behind enemy lines with only a few hundred comrades to fight entire armies of enemies. I still would like to know if my father was one of the courageous ones.
I can hear the door downstairs. The men are pounding on it. The wood is splintering now. I should get ready for them. They’re shouting something to me, I cant really make it out over the marathon of tiny footsteps.
I wonder who these men are. I mean I know who they are, but really I wonder things about them. Maybe the one shouting to me has children. He might have two, a boy a girl perhaps? I wish I could just speak to them. But words will not resolve my problems.
My mother once told me that “life isn’t fair”. That she had it hard too, and she made it. She told me I could make it too, that all I had to do is try my hardest and work the best I could. I wish I could have thanked her for those words. She was good to me and I tried my hardest to pull my weight.
There was a gunshot downstairs. I can hear the door being broken down now. There are muffled shouts, maybe 4 men. They’re in my prison, my warm little cubicle.
When I was a boy I always wanted to be a doctor. To help people, to save their lives. I wanted to wear a white coat and a stethoscope. When I learned about money I struck this idea from my mind. I was no idealist. I would do like everyone else, and work as hard as I could until I couldn’t stand.
I can hear them coming up the stairs. The stampede of thick boots against hardwood. Its deafening. They are shouting again. I don’t think I will put up any fight, I am too tired now. These men do not deserve my hate. One of them has two children, a boy and a girl.
Why is everything so complicated? Why is everything made so hard? I have worked the hardest I could in my life and I am punished for it. I do not regret my actions. I did the best I could. My mother told me once that my father would be proud.
They’re almost to me. I can hear them searching for me. The stampede of boots has faded to gentle taps of well placed feet. They are ready for me.
My actions may have been misguided. My entire life has been a bit misguided. Now more than ever though, I believe that I did the right thing. I wish I could have had children, given them everything I never had.
The people I killed did not understand how it was to grow up without shoes. They did not care about people like me, or my mother. I made them care. I made them know, made them think and most of all made them fear. The land of opportunity is a lie. If you are born without shoes, no matter how hard you work, you will die without shoes. But I showed them this.
I killed them all, because they didn’t care about people like my mother. She had no healthcare, she had no money. She could barley feed me.
Why did I blow up those buildings? Why did I kill all those men? I did it so that people like my mother wont die of Influenza. I did it to make a point and now I am tired of it all.
Am I a killer? Yes
Am I a Terrorist Threat? Yes
Am I Un-American? No
The Rich cannot become richer when The Poor cannot become poorer.
The men coming to kill me deserve medals.
They know where I am and I am going to die.
Maybe I need to.
Everyone needs a pair of shoes.