His words were the tides, ultimately
controlled by Poseidon himself, handcrafted
by strong knuckles and damp hands.
The harsh waves pushed and jostled my
body, pulling it back carelessly into
the never ending sea.
It was a work of art, although greatly sabotaged
since he created my voyage, my boat without oars,
my deep sea diving trip with no oxygen tank,
placing me into the eye of the whirlpool.
It wasn't until I was drowning,
alone, nowhere else to go,
that I realized that the
people with the most power always
end up wreaking the most havoc.