Mar 16
If God exists, why do the children fall,
To cancer’s cruel and unforgiving hands?
This world cannot be shaped by one who’d call
Such misery "order"—none understands.
The gods, if they exist, must stand too far—
A distant shadow, cold, without command.
The world He made, too harsh, too deeply scarred,
And thus, if there is God, He’s misbegan.
No child should perish for such hollow art,
No god would craft this cruel and fractured heart.
The suffering of the innocent is law,
Not random chance, but woven in the thread.
A plan unknown, a world in perfect flaw,
Where pain and loss lie always just ahead.
If pain must reign to teach the truth we seek,
Then truth itself is cheaper than the cost.
I will not bear such price, for I am weak—
A world of sorrow leaves all things as lost.
If peace is born from children’s endless tears,
Then peace is but a lie, a mask of fears.
What sense is in a world that builds on this?
Where joy is stolen, suffering grows thick.
Why seek a world where harmony’s amiss?
Where death and grief are stitched in every brick.
I want no peace that tastes of sorrow’s kiss,
For love of life, I turn away from bliss.
If God exists, why does He watch this plight?
And if no answer comes, then how take flight?
The laws of nature reign, they stand, they bind,
For man to learn, to bear the weight of pain.
If nature’s laws will leave the weak behind,
Then suffering becomes their bitter gain.
"I am the God," He says, "this world, my choice—
No morals here—no comfort, no reprieve.
Without the hurt, the soul would lose its voice,
The heart would close, and men would cease to grieve."
But how can man accept a world so flawed,
Where pain is truth, and peace must be so raw?
"A freedom born from suffering must stand,
It’s marked by guilt, a weight we must believe.
But without pain, no soul would take a hand,
And peace would die, while men would never grieve.
So go away, if you reject the pain,
And leave me with my world, where I, your God, remain."
To cancer’s cruel and unforgiving hands?
This world cannot be shaped by one who’d call
Such misery "order"—none understands.
The gods, if they exist, must stand too far—
A distant shadow, cold, without command.
The world He made, too harsh, too deeply scarred,
And thus, if there is God, He’s misbegan.
No child should perish for such hollow art,
No god would craft this cruel and fractured heart.
The suffering of the innocent is law,
Not random chance, but woven in the thread.
A plan unknown, a world in perfect flaw,
Where pain and loss lie always just ahead.
If pain must reign to teach the truth we seek,
Then truth itself is cheaper than the cost.
I will not bear such price, for I am weak—
A world of sorrow leaves all things as lost.
If peace is born from children’s endless tears,
Then peace is but a lie, a mask of fears.
What sense is in a world that builds on this?
Where joy is stolen, suffering grows thick.
Why seek a world where harmony’s amiss?
Where death and grief are stitched in every brick.
I want no peace that tastes of sorrow’s kiss,
For love of life, I turn away from bliss.
If God exists, why does He watch this plight?
And if no answer comes, then how take flight?
The laws of nature reign, they stand, they bind,
For man to learn, to bear the weight of pain.
If nature’s laws will leave the weak behind,
Then suffering becomes their bitter gain.
"I am the God," He says, "this world, my choice—
No morals here—no comfort, no reprieve.
Without the hurt, the soul would lose its voice,
The heart would close, and men would cease to grieve."
But how can man accept a world so flawed,
Where pain is truth, and peace must be so raw?
"A freedom born from suffering must stand,
It’s marked by guilt, a weight we must believe.
But without pain, no soul would take a hand,
And peace would die, while men would never grieve.
So go away, if you reject the pain,
And leave me with my world, where I, your God, remain."
