As a child believing in you was easier, more simplistic
Now when bad things happen, I question
Why?
What did I do to deserve this?
I am a good person
And yet…
You allow tragedy to happen to me
You allow poverty to strike
You allow death to creep closer and steal away loved ones
You allow anger to engulf my soul, spirit, and body
Where is the love you promised?
The joy?
The happiness?
The eternal bliss?
Maybe you forgot that I was good
Misplaced my fortune with that of  murderers, thief, or some other criminal or convict
Or..
Maybe…
Possibly…
You just don’t exist