God is good—no doubt, no question—
good to the ones who stay true,
who walk in His justice,
who hold tight to what’s right.

But me? I almost fell.
I almost let go.
Because I looked at the powerful,
the ones who move through this world untouched,
untested, unshaken—
and I started to wonder.

They don’t struggle like we do.
No hunger in their bellies, no weight on their backs.
Their money shields them, their names protect them.
They wear arrogance like designer clothes,
violence drips from their tongues like honey.

They mock us, they trample us,
they steal and call it success.
And the people follow—
blind, desperate, hoping for a taste
of that untouchable life.

And these oppressors?
They laugh in our faces.
They say, “Where is your God?
If He’s real, why doesn’t He stop us?”
And the worst part? They keep winning.
They stack riches like mountains,
while we scrape for crumbs.

And I start to wonder—
Was I a fool to stay righteous?
To keep my hands clean,
my soul untainted?
Because all it’s gotten me is suffering.
All I see is pain.

But then—oh, then—
I stepped into the presence of God.
I saw the truth like fire in the dark.

These so-called kings? These untouchables?
They are standing on cracking ice,
thin as a whisper, weak as a lie.
One slip, and they are gone—
ripped from their thrones,
swallowed in the storm of justice.

They think they own the world.
But they are a breath—
here, then gone.
Like a bad dream, they will vanish,
forgotten in the light of morning.

With apologies, this rendition is ChatGPT–but true to the source.