Hush now, idiot. Stop kicking up a fuss. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. I choose, I decide. You balk, you crumple and hide. Shut your whining and self-doubt. Your worries and your desires. They threaten to penetrate through this veneer of confidence I have so tirelessly constructed. Let me rest now, cease your complaints. Let me breathe now, go, take your break. A tempest -autonomic, anti-sympathetic to my prerogative. Allow me now, to rest and digest, to cast my cares on the evening wind. -The clouds, they look so perfect in the morning. I put down the poems to view the sugar in the sky lines and rows of crystal dust- Take me back there! Ease and comfort not even death could bereave.