A/N: This is basically a poem about Jack Sparrow's thoughts when he is marooned upon the island and watches the Black Pearl sail away. Quite a sad poem really, I guess it's because I was feeling bored and a bit lonely when I wrote this. I scribbled this down last night whilst watching POTC (as if it would be anything else!), and then I added two more verses (the tenth and twelfth) when I woke up this morning. I knew something was missing from it last night – turned out to be the rum, so there's a bit about that towards the end. The twelfth verse is just there to finish everything off, with Jack feeling utterly alone and helpless. Bless him.

I've never written a poem before, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Please read and review, and tell me what you think of it! Thank you.

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Drifting away into the distance,
Over the horizon my life is ripped
Away from me – my pride and joy,
My life's efforts, my dream, my Pearl.

Torturously slowly she disappears,
Mocking me, tempting me to wade and follow,
But she does not stop, nor slow down.
She sneers and laughs as I sit here.

I can feel the pull, but tis only a guise
For trickery and humiliation as I remain here and stare.
My eyes; they still gaze ahead as she sails
Past the line uniting sea and sky.

All the times I have drawn my sword;
Cocked a pistol at someone's chest;
Flicked a knife and slit a throat,
All for that which now deserts me.

Abandons me here on this lonely isle
To suffer the heat, solitude and hunger.
Is this the thanks I get from you?
For revealing information you didn't deserve to know?

I shouldn't have told you; I know that now.
Blinded by naivety, easy trust and belief.
I thought you an ally; a decent man, not a rat.
My judgement shall never again be so easily swayed.

Tis worse than a prison cell, is this spit of land:
Surrounded by water, consumed by the heat.
So here you maroon me on this 'paradise' isle
With naught but a pistol and a single shot.

And here I hold it in my hand;
The barrel so dark, like a tunnel it seems.
A short route to my escape when I need it most?
It stays still, oh so still – does it wait for me?

Or shall I wait and resist the quick escape?
And use it instead on he who betrayed?
Revenge would be sweet and I'd laugh in his face
As crimson lifeblood pours from his chest.

A bottle of rum in my other hand;
A temporary world where I am free.
My cares and woes are washed away,
But only for a time, and then they return.

For now you look on and you laugh.
You have won; I have lost.
Maybe this is how it will always remain;
With me sat here 'til my dying day.

Perhaps never ever to fly again,
Or seek new adventures in this world.
All because of you who marooned me here,
On this godforsaken spit of land.