Cry baby.

The tears of a child 
Pour from moonbeam shaped eyes
To the inky black oceans of Lethe.

As his pirate ship sails
(With it’s sunshiny sails)
Into view from the caverns beneath…

All pretence of his ire
Have been cast to the fire
With the hope that his pain will be lost.

But those thoughts of his rage
Somehow makes the back page
As his memories fade. At what cost?