Rotten Mast

A mind burned and scorned and jaded and eternally thankful for small eyes that look up. Can the sail be lifted up? Can it be filled? Can the ropes hold? The mast is rotten so it doesn't matter. Fucking swim you cretin you human failure that your children love and respect and dream to be like. They don't see the ropes the sails this rotten mast. And so you stay on the vessel and the innocent eyes and hearts and hugs fill the sails. And the ocean is full of warm waves.