A Lone Man’s Plight
Beneath the churning skies and wrathful sea,
A lone man wails into swirling agony.
Each crashing wave, a relentless assault,
Mirroring the chaos of his inner tumult.
Beneath tempestuous heavens, alone he fights,
His vessel, both refuge and dungeon, a conflicting plight.
A shattered rudder, no course to absolution found,
Adrift on a storm’s fury, lost in madness profound.
Wailing winds weave a haunting tale of fears,
Echoing through the past, of worn, wearied years.
As monstrous waves loom with menacing calls,
He battles enclosing walls, and suffocating thralls.
Battered and broken, his sanity frays,
As the relentless onslaught spans endless days,
In his eyes, a depth of unspoken woes,
As he fights undertows that nobody knows.
Bruised by life’s relentless grind,
A solitary soul adrift, with no spiritual guide.
Time’s cruel hands, etched lines on a weathered face,
As he fights the unyielding storm, losing pace.
Haunting memories of home, lurk in his mind,
In the depths of his soul, remorse and regrets entwine.
The wailing waves and spitting spray,
The chaos of poor choices that lead him astray.
Decades spent in the bottles grip, a family torn asunder,
A wretched drunkard, prone to rages of thunder.
Wife and children gone, leaving him to dwell,
With naught but guilt and regrets, a solitary hell.
Lightening flashes, electric tendrils ignite the night.
A thunderous roar, a reverberating fright,
The lone man’s vessel, a frail and feeble shell,
Beaten and battered, by the tempest’s ceaseless swell.
A splintering crack, rends the cold night air,
A toll his sanity can no longer bare.
Icy waters pouring in, a stinging caress,
As tears merge with ocean, his heart’s confess.
Battered and burdened, his spirit worn thin,
Scarred by arduous battles, damn demons within.
Consumed by the tempest he has wrought,
As the sirens of the sea claim their lot.
An ice-cold specter steals his final breath,
From unfathomable depths, a chilling, silent death.
Memories of love, a cherished home and kin,
A sinking reminder of what might have been.
As the storm’s fury wanes, a mournful wail
His lifeless form drifts, an echoing knell.
In the sea’s soft embrace, he finds his peace,
A watery grave for a weary soul’s release.
A tragic journey ends, but his tale carries on,
A cautionary ode of battles never won.
In the echoes of the ocean’s lament, his legacy lies,
A sacrifice to the struggle, that haunts our lives.
Copyright ©
Edward Wraith
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