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.