Rage

 So there's this picture of a boy. He's between seven and thirteen years old. He has a very simple smile; that I just want to slap off.

When I see this boy my first instinct is rage. Full unapologetic pure rage. To say I want to rip this kid to shreds is an understatement.
My rage builds and I want to charge at this boy but I can't. He's just a photograph, a memory of the past.
I hate him. I hate him! I HATE HIM!
I  want to walk away but now he's in my head and when I close my eyes that simple smile is all I can see and I'm enraged once more. I want to destroy this child.
All I can do is cry. The pain is too great and my anger is more than justified but what does that say about me? What kind of monster am I for wanting to attack a child? Even if that child is me.