The foamy sea churned around the rickety wooden boat. Slapping waves from the sides  could make anyone seasick. The pirates, adamant not to abandon ship and in turn, not wanting to abandon their treasure, pressed on. The gales were so strong that it lifted the captains hat clear off his head. On deck was pandemonium as the crew frantically ran around pulling every rope, calling out to one another, trying not to get swept overboard. The plank had clear snapped in two, the other half of which was long gone. The air was humid and tasted of seawater. Everyone’s mouth had the taste of bile. This was a time to believe in God again; Come back to center and realize there are forces greater than ourselves. How does one protect herself against a raging sea? How does one control it? They can’t. Black and grey clouds seem to multiply like smoke. The heavens brewing a constant fire with its cruel rain, making visibility a challenge. Stomachs flip-flop, no where on board is safe until Poseidon  –

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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