Torn from the wallet of the eye- a tear
Shunned for coming as it come
The cathartic shame of soulful slum
A derelict ship of the fleet of composure
A captive buys casket, but what of enclosure?

We fall to the silence of fear
Pile it high and bury it low
Yet still these mice of woes do flow
Over marble pages of black and white
Confirming the captain slipped away in the night