I think none suits this

I hold my mug,same mug I always use,same time,same spot,the window where I'll stare and stare at the green fence perhaps,at the passers by,at the window half open always,at the thought that someone is also staring,at the kids ariving,at the kids playing then I sip my coffee, coke,ginger, rosemary, water,tea,lemon,and I make up stories about them,and I kill some and I wonder on how to read some and on how to hate some and why the other one seems off.and  then my mind wanders it travels into the pit with the smallest peak of hope, I'm sad ain't I?

My mind travels, and there you see this boy,this spoilt brat who thinks bribing is going to solve his problems,who feels good someone else being humiliated,this sadist,I see him as a psychopath yet I don't throw blames,I feel like telling him will ruin his mood and he'll enjoy the sight of my scolding, I've screamed at him, I've imagined knocking his head on the wall again and again and again , I've seem him drowned, I've seem him sleeping the forever sleep, I've seen him in a bodybag, I've seen people mourning him,yet I always pause, smiling at the thought of how the world will punish him,at the thought that one day the universe will balance up,at the thought that bullies gonna get the best part of him, at the thought that these children looking up to him won't trust him when they understand nihilism.

But I stop caring for him, maybe he thinks he's gonna have his mum for a wife,

 but I'm tired and angry at the border between the fortunate and the less fortunate,why must there be a space,but I stare at my mug saying 'that's why there's going to be more of this' I raise it up.