Deep churning of the chords conjure some words
Silence is smothered without much regret
Their eyes are smudged as commotion blurs
Pierced through the heart the other’s bayonet.

Waves clash, splintering the bases of boats
Combustible like flame to hydrogen.
Captains Oh Captains at each other’s throats
Depriving each other of oxygen.

But gusts of statements, drafts of insults cease
As anger takes flight from its creation
Leaving behind ‘reaming white tears of peace
And the nagging feel for quick translation.

And as the sun rises in the morrow
Captains will know the reaping of sorrow