Carach Angren

Lots of tears, months became years.
Their mothers wept for many nights,
wondering if their sons died. Just when the grief
became permissive and brief, tales of a ghost ship were
spread... the same vessel where their brood found death.
A craft made of mist, coursing in a timeless direction.
This cadaverous sighting, causing mayhem through
reflection. These dark words are whispered in the local
hangout of our port. Sailors and captains sketching a ship's
hull with a black shape aboard. Robust dauntless sea-dogs
speak with a frightened tone in their voice:
"Blue was the sky and the sun smiled at the crew.
Then a storm came forth, moving swiftly from the north.
Claps of thunder rumble, cold winds whining loud.
A ghostly solstice, weeping thick tears from its dreary clouds.
As if these raindrops awoke something from its sleep,