The waves were like vipers,
picking of weary sailors from
the deck.
Plucking them with fangs of stinging
waves, taking those unsuspecting
from the deck.
Drowning them in the sorrows
that suffocated them beneath the
planks they were washed upon.
So many swords were never lifted
but fell submerged silently.
Falling beneath the honour that sank before them.
But like creeping ivy, they were woven upon.
Seaweed forests clasping upon those
weary travellers that sang into slumbering bereavement.
Still the forests that fed on the rainfall of what
decayed falling statically from above,
nourishment in silent surrendering's.
prompt: pirate
