I, the Un-omnipotent...
What do you think I would do to you now,
Given the chance, what wrath would I unleash? Would I send all the misfortunes in the world out leech you?
Do you think I could drag you over jagged rocks of a cliff then shove you, wait 'til you submerge, then observe you, lifeless, wash up on the beach beneath you?
Or would I string you up in the centre of town, for all to see, taunt and judge you, remove all discretion, preventing anyone trying to protect you be able to reach you?
Perhaps I'd chain you to a desk, make you write thousands of apologetic lines, punish you harshly, have a stern lesson to teach you?
Maybe I'd turn you into a peasant, remove every ounce of esteem and ego, and as if I ruled the world with an iron fist, effortlessly command you, with no need to beseech you?
The truth is even if I could do anything, I would do nothing. I'd give you no time. You haven't defined me. I've defined myself, so well, that despite you, I even mastered turning pain into unwavering speech, too.