If I were God, no tyrant’s fist
Would strike the world and call it law.
No throne would stand on broken backs,
No crown be forged from cries of pain.

The fattened few who drink from veins
Of those who toil, who starve, who break,
Would wake to find their golden feasts
Had turned to dust upon their tongues.

No child would fade to hollow bone,
No mother beg for crusts of bread,
No father drown in debts so deep
He sells his soul to see them fed.

No blade would carve through helpless flesh,
No hand would tear a creature’s scream
From lungs too weak to fight, to flee—
The world would cease to feast on fear.

No forest choked in smoke and ash,
No river thick with filth and bile,
No ocean robbed of life and breath,
No earth made barren, bruised, defiled.

If I were God, the beasts that walk
With poison hearts, with ruthless hands,
Would find their power stripped, erased—
No war, no chains, no blood for land.

No name would drown in silent loss,
No species crushed to suit our greed,
No roots pulled up, no sky burned bare,
No world left gasping at our feet.