The Ship

A thick fog prevents sight

This ship is at the hands of God

Out of hopelessness there's no flight

The vessel was crafted flawed

 

Rotting wooden floors

Torn sails

A crooked captain behind closed doors

The compass fails

 

The crew is clueless

Of what the future holds

Desperate cries for help are pointless

The clouds fall and the fog unfolds

 

The world will swallow the ship

With nobody to witness it

For nobody will make the trip

Across the fog that won't split

 

The mast holds secrets

And the wheel is ashamed

None to be saved from the bleakness

Now lost but before famed

 

Ahoy you lost and broken vessel

And may your travels lead you to good

On the waters you nestle

Waiting to die like your wood

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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