The Hat Eater
The sea is too big.
It's really not fair.
I can't find out why things wash up,
or from where.
If I find a skull,
on the soft rocky ground,
There's no telling who lost it,
by where it was found.
And these ragged torn clothes,
half buried in sand.
Did they wash up,
from a far distant land?
And these footprint-shaped pools,
as wide as a spade.
Where on Earth did they come from?
and by who's feet were they made?
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