I'm sorry the Poor weren't more beautiful

Listen... I'm sorry the Poor weren't more beautiful,
dirt-streaked supermodels wearing the latest rags,
toting adorable waifs with the biggest eyes you've ever seen;
I'm sorry the criminals weren't hideous
monsters with scraped-raw voices so you'd know who not to trust.
I'm sorry my disciples don't wear halos, golden like the noonday sun,
don't all have strength like Samson, nor wear David's crown
and hiding my prophets among the milling peasant crowd?
...yeah, that was unfair.
I just thought, when I sent you into this world,
small and weak and crying,
you would know that no one deserves the pain they get,
you'd know that this life was a harder game,
and you'd have to think, and see and Help Each Other.
Now you've clawed and fought your way to the top.
I guess I should've warned you, the whole world is upside-down.