I throw my heart into a kettle,  
It’s dripping blood from your beastly mettle.  
My hair I’ve woven in a broom—  
I guess, for you, I am no groom.  
I am scattering away all my stored gloom;  
My body parts and silly limbs are piled into a rugged cart.  
I am painting a new future with all my bile and lard—  
The rest of gruesome details and remains is up for sale.  
In my hands are both the reins.  

My boat is dabbling in uneasy waters;  
The crew is nestled in closed quarters.  
My first mate loiters in the galleys;  
We are sailing past the lands with misty alleys.  
Our spirit slowly rallies—  
The people’s tone no longer sallow.  
Recently, we’ve sunk our only gallow,  
The tides becoming ever shallow.  

Unwelcoming and rocky bay,  
Jungle pierced by gleaming ray—  
Is it real, or just antics of the fae?  
Our rejuvenation is but nigh.  
We’ve reached the coast just in time  
For the roaring autumn festival—  
Stalls and barrels bursting from produce.  
Nobody’s acting coy, quickly we deduce—  
Masks, silks, and fires in a wild dance;  
My mates have dropped their grimly stance.  

Ghostly visions plague my mind—  
Spirits of the carnival gently pat my back.  
Their demeanor I find kind.  
Is this all a fever dream?  
The chances are not so slim.  
What’s the catch?  
However, does it matter all that much?  
I feel I’ve opened up my grizzly hatch.  
At least I am finally at ease—  
That’s my hunch.