The first cannon blows.

It’s a howler.

It’s clipped them but they’re still sailing,

So grab another.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh”,

I’ve been hit,

And there is no more.

The battle is at climax.

You equate it to Yorktown.

You fire the remnants of the ship.

It’s a horrible,

dirty effort,

You weren’t aiming for the kill,

But rather the pain before it.

You hear a faint voice coming from the other ship.

“take it back”

The cannons become mouths,

The sea becomes the bedroom,

The cannonballs are words,

They morph from an enemy ship into the one you love.

You don’t know if you can take it back.

The wounds are bleeding in front of me.

My first aid in the workplace certificate,

That expired a year ago,

Might not fix this.

“I take it back”

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