Stranger even to himself

Every time and in every world its end is the same. He stands on the roof of a high building and looks at the people below laughing together, some children playing, the atmosphere of celebrations and happiness fills the streets, and he always looks up, looking at them with sadness, jealousy, and hatred, why do they get happiness and he doesn't, why don't they have to bow down like him to a despicable person, why do they enjoy sunlight when he is forbidden to touch a small ray of sun. He hated people, he hated himself for not being able to change his destiny was inevitable every time. He hated those hands that slid thickly on his neck and obstructed his breathing. Under the pretext of love. And bring him back to his place in the ranks of murderers.