Porcelain man sat there afloat,
unfaced by the turmoil rocking his boat,
surrounded by darkness everywhere he looked,
he gathered the lure and flung off the hook,
fishing for memories in that sea of dread,
enticed by the plummeting depths of his head.

Porcelain man sat there in silence,
amidst the crashing of waves, above an ocean of violence,
waiting in patience for his soul to bite,
hoping to catch a glimpse of its sight,
but try as he did, the hook came up empty,
not a piece of himself in that ocean of plenty.

Porcelain man sat there in vain,
for the person he was, had been lost to the rain,
nor the winds, nor the sun, could give pause to his cause,
whatever life he had left, he would devote to his loss,
he was doomed then, to roam,
forever in search of something that's gone.