Journal Entry 6-From a Young Man Swooned By Piracy
This day marked my thirteenth year
and the wound I received
from a drunken bar maid
shall linger longer
My heart still beats
and yet,
if I look closely,
I’m sure to be bleeding,
my very soul wretched
From beneath her bony fingers
I saw the piece of eight
handed to her by dirty hands
Whispers of a promise from
a dirty mouth
Unbeknownst to me,
he had offered her money
to make me a man
When I was out to prove
to myself and to them,
that I was worthy of a woman
She came to me,
offered me her dark secrets
Took me to a place I have
Never known to exist
Laughing as she walked away,
she winked and called me
her little boy
Crumpled upon soiled linen
I offered her my innocence
And she left me bare
Crying out for its return,
sorrow filled my empty chest
for it’s false demise
Tomorrow, we shall return to
the unforgiving sea
and I shall try to overcome
this hate that is building
inside my chest
Copyright © Marco Borda | Year Posted 2007
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