To my past, the young, entrancing deer:

I have decided that I survived this thunderstorm. This boat that was barely a raft, carrying my salt soaked body. You did your worse to me and now I'm done. Your beautiful night sky could never reach me again. I'm on my own now. No more winds to thrash through my head, to enter one ear and exit my heart. I thought that maybe I could just float along the surface and watch your beauty reflect in the smog. Of course, you proved me wrong. You didn't want me there, I could feel it in the chill that you sent me. I took that chill and put it to use. This use is of no importance, but at least it is existant. I guess I needed your water to survive, but now as I ponder, I did not. So I leave you to yourself, to your life filled with so many thoughts, nightmares, and vivid images of people shattering before you. I will always have the choice to come back to the shore, to say hi and smile at your dark waves. I know better than to jump into your ocean again.

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