“They Just Keep Taking”
by Scott Randy Gerber
They lie.
With tongues forked like serpents behind a grin,
Dressed in suits stitched from other people’s skin.
They cheat.
With a smile and a pen, then call it law,
While hungry children bite their lips raw.
They steal.
And still—
It’s not enough.
They hoard the gold, the bread, the time,
They twist the truth, reframe the crime.
They steal from hands already bare,
And curse the poor for breathing air.
They build their castles out of bones,
Then throw us pennies, like we’re stones.
Their appetites are blackened holes,
Consuming futures, eating souls.
And yet—
If they, with bellies aching, came,
The ones they crushed would feel their shame…
But still would lift a trembling hand,
And offer bread, and try to stand.
Because kindness doesn’t count the cost.
It’s born from love, not what is lost.
It gives when there’s no more to give,
It’s how the meek still choose to live.
That’s the tragedy.
That’s the truth.
The ones they rob—the old, the youth—
Are rich in ways the tyrants fear,
With hearts too wide, too bright, too clear.
The child who weeps from hunger pains
Would shelter them from cold and rains.
The mother who can barely stand
Would still extend her open hand.
And still—
They want more.
More greed.
More walls.
More thrones.
More chains.
They gut the earth and steal the sky,
And never once ask themselves why.
Why the joy they buy won’t last,
Why their souls feel made of glass.
Because deep down, they know it’s true:
That the strongest ones…
Are not they, but you.
The ones who break, yet bend to heal.
Who give, not take.
Who feel.
In ragged homes and crowded streets,
Where struggle and humanity meet,
There blooms a grace they’ll never see—
A wealth beyond their currency.
One day, the walls will fall to dust.
And power bow before the just.
And they will hunger—yes, they will—
And find no throne can keep them still.
But even then, as sure as dawn,
Some stranger poor, alone, withdrawn,
Will see their eyes and offer bread,
A hand, a light, a tear unshed.
Because that’s what makes the humble great:
They do not answer love with hate.
They give, not for reward or fame—
But just because…
We’re not the same.
