The waves, they weep like a widow
But why, you wonder, do they weep so?
For the women that watched their husbands get whisked away by war?
For the watery grave that will forever house the nameless?
Or maybe, they weep for the whimsical fish
Whose life was washed away so quickly?
Will we ever never wonder why the waves are so wet
From weeping and wailing?
Or perhaps the greatest question we can wonder
Is why we wonder about some waves at all?
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