My entire existence is predicated upon the fact that I will one day explode. It is the reason I was created, and the reason I live - so that I will die, hopefully taking another's life with me. Unlike others, my being is made for killing, not living. I am nothing but a weapon - and not even a decent weapon, rarely able to do more than shrink my opponent. If I were to take my own life, I would be doing the world a great favor - for no one else would need to fear harm due to my presence.
Not all who rest on clouds live in Heaven - I am a shining testament to this. As others shuffle below me, bound to the Earth, I fly above them in the skies - hurling my children to the ground which I so fear. Hurling my innocent, confused children towards an enemy who has given me no reason to hate him so. Watching in horror as my precious offspring walk into pits, as they have no reason to understand the dangers of the ground that they have found themselves upon. I am more executioner than father.