The Ship of Fools
No stars above. Just ash and smoke.
The mast is cracked. The hull half broke.
They sail through oil-slick, blackened tide,
With vacant eyes and tongues that lied.
A jester grips the rusted wheel,
His grin sewn shut with strands of steel.
They toast to gods they never knew,
Then feed the sea with what they slew.
The deck is slick with sins and brine,
Their voices rot like spoiled wine.
One speaks in riddles made of bone,
Another hums, already stone.
No one screams when silence drowns.
They simply laugh as bodies frown.
A choir of madness, cruel and shrill,
That mocks the storm they cannot kill.
They chart no course. They seek no land.
They drag the dead with each command.
The ship does not forgive or save.
It builds a kingdom from a grave.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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