1.

Crushed between gales against rocky peaks,

I gaze over craggy cutlass shores

and to my wonder, I can speak

of the sun rising above

no more.

2

These battle wounds refuse to mend themselves;

they manifest this pain,

this plaintive act of suffering.

I pray for close until the end of solitude.

This pricy toll

that left a melancholic hole

within my gut that will ever remain

is kept from the others who suffer same.