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99% of the time, I'm alright with the way things worked out. Then there's that one percent - that 5 minutes and 10 seconds of Cannonball, when I'm like - damn.

You, the roaring tide.
Me, the message in a bottle.
A part of me will always long to float in your abyss;
And recount the times you’ve pulled me under
The foam of your embrace.

With each passing breath I float, far and far away;
From the darkest depths of your center,
The loudest rumble of your roar.
But the bit of you that’s seeped inside me will always be there;
And there it will stay;
With feelings tattooed on a badly beaten surface;
Reminiscent of the time
When I wanted you
To sweep me away - forever.