With that enlarged captain’s hat
And those fingers replaced with a hook;
That hair equivalent to a samurai’s,
In colour of pink, the wind blew into it.
That underlying regret in that
Evil, obscene smirk.
Looking over the grotesque scene
With such undeniable pain.
That smile was soon wavering, wavering;
Your pink samurai hair entangled,
Covering your forlorn eyes soon about to water,
But you couldn’t.
I’m a pirate but I’m weak.
I was never strong, elite; powerful.
That bitter wind walked pass my figure,
With a facade so weak; I shall still fight.