I met a man named Mr. Strawhat

I met a man with a strange story

He was black and wore a straw hat.

The hat was bought from a flea market

And his right thumb was missing.

But the thoughts buried deep in his

Mind were still there.

Vivid images, stories with horrible

Endings. This man has seen the

World at it’s worse.

He saw the president get

Shot. And he witnessed a

Man killing himself.

Back then the world was a different place.

It was better for the soul to understand

The human rights. He told me about

His grandfather who came all the

Way from Europe to fight

 In the wars.  

Mr. Strawhat used to trade his

Coffee beans for goats’ milk.

The survive you think of

Only the minimal you

Don’t think of what you want.

 You get what you need.

Mr. Strawhat has now passed,

And the lavender aside his 

Grave is weeping.