Ramblings

The crimson tide rising in the horizon,
Feeding the sky like a bleeding sun.

The blood of defeat lapping at your feet,
Like stagnant water eddying against the rocks of broken desire.

Forlorn and wrecked lies the ship of hope,
Its skeletal hollows crusted with salt of tears and despair.

Eating away at its rotten wood, the bloody tide swells,
Engulfing tears and despair, leaving nothing as imprints,
Not even life to dwell.