the captain's son

Teardrops fall on wooden planks. The sound of despair inevitably rings in the child's fragile eardrum. A bass of a beat, something quite unheard. Shall I feel sorrow for the upcoming months of eternity with this herd. The fear of losing oneself through a miner's crutches. A crucifix stapled to his chest, must fear, a tear of tears either/or tears. Cry more on these planks, scatter the weaves for there is no one to save you, you or even Zarathustra. These feelings are eminent, these feelings are there. Spell check to find out what certain objects compare. Les Miserables plays on the screen, black and white, within the tattered vessel, where the men stand up to fight or drink or whatever else could and does happen. The crew look up at the screen and laugh a bit, never singing along but there is one who does. Not the first mate, nor second or even the third, but the captain's son who watches the film unheard. He sweeps the deck of the sailor's lounge, singing along to the beautiful sound. At times, he stops the sweep and is pushed to the broom. These sailors they terrorize this son, this young man, as if he were a heathen, but he's only a newborn quiet J---. But still he sweeps and he sweeps and the floor is all clean, to forget is to ponder, minds the son, an angel in the depths, the void, somewhere above the forgotten. The wretched first mate spits on the newly swiped floor. Go back to your mindset and points to the drenched mop at the cabin door. Haha says the mate with 10 beers in his hand. So, the son just sweeps and sweeps and still sings til the end. A brutish man pauses mid step on the deck. Here son, take my hand, the feeling is not dread. He has a whisker of a smile and a hearty laugh indeed. The boy looks up and sees the gleam within his eyes. Do not, fear not...believe in me son. For I am your man, I am one with the land. The boy was shaken and rattled and wonderfully big eyed. And reaches up to the man to shake his hand and nudges for a smile. For I have never been helped by a man of your stature, nor have I ever seen you here in these bottomless caverns. You are not one of them, this I cannot comprehend. You brought me a water and a watch and of course, the lamb. These dreary days and nights as the captain's son, used to feel pitiful and hopeless until you came along. Now I feel grateful and happy and I cannot think of any other word. You saved me today, unlike the rest of the herd. Still they drink and they piss and they fart like it's mellow, but you sir are an interesting, loving, compassionate fellow.

Gg