A throughly miserable sonnet in the style of Yukio Mashima, facist nutcase.

On a pier composing haiku not remembered
Haijin fishwives contemplate grief and loss
Gutting Red Snapper, throwing back the head
Holding off bad luck by feeding albatross
She sits dreaming, hands burned by the red suns heat
Ephemeral thoughts and long nothingness
She sits empty, Dreaming of young stockinged feet
Her old heart never feeling passions kind caress
A solice is found quite unexpectedly
In welcoming arms of death, her lungs fill
Salt water a release, the old woman not angry
At her saviours that learned how to kill
The ripples fade, the lady not remembered
A long life forgotton, but never really heard.