24/01/2026
Here’s a poem that holds your doubt gently, without trying to solve it—only to sit inside it with you: from the Book of All Fcuks by obee
⸻
If I Were God
If I were God,
could I hear them all—
billions of mouths opening at once,
each prayer a small fire,
each scream a torn sky?
Would my ears not bleed
from the weight of asking?
Would my hands not tremble
deciding which child to spare,
which field to let starve,
which city to burn tonight?
They say free will is the bargain—
that suffering is the price of choice.
But what kind of love
signs a contract written in bones?
Wars keep breeding like myths,
old hatreds wearing new flags.
Hunger sharpens its teeth.
Greed builds temples higher than faith,
and the rich speak my name
only when counting their profits.
If I intervened,
would they call me a tyrant?
If I stayed silent,
they already call me cruel.
So tell me—
should I care for the righteous,
or the desperate?
The obedient,
or the ones who curse my absence?
Should I side with those
who pray prettily,
or those too exhausted to believe?
If I were God,
I might envy humans this one mercy:
that confusion belongs to them alone,
that they can still ask
without having to answer everything.
And maybe—
just maybe—
my greatest sin
would not be silence,
but knowing
and still not knowing
who to save first.
