The Faithful Hurt

Hey all.

I tried something different with this poem. Firstly, I used a poetry structure I have never used before, call terza rima, which basically means 3 line stanza's where the first and third line end in a rhyme, then the second line rhymes with the first and third of the next stanza, and so on. Capping it off with the final second line rhyming with the first line of the first stanza. I liked the challenge of the structure, but I definitely won't go to that exclusively. The other thing I tried was to vent a bit of the anger I have been feeling towards work lately into the poem. You can take it for whatever you like, I found it very cathartic to write out. As per usual with a poem, I don't think its very good now that I have finished. I'm not sure if it flows smoothly or not. This poem took two attempts at though so I am posting it as is. Thank you for reading.




The Faithful Hurt



Staring deep into the black,

A bubbling brink that threatens to overlap,

I'm far to gone to ever turn back.


This hate and fear will start to snap,

And find me alone in this darkest realm.

Cloaked with this anger's wrap.


Sense's fail to face the overwhelm,

And that's left behind is the faithful hurt.

Left adrift with no one at the helm.


Nothing left but this kingdom of dirt,

And the boiling depths of that which seethes,

A rage to sunder all to it's pervert.


For it threatens to suffocate all that breathe.

And Lo! Beware this wrath and scorn,

As I wield a sword that may not find sheathe.


Regret that wroth hath which been born.

For I can no longer see salvation's hand.

Or remember those I have hurt to mourn.


This ebon growth has seized command.

To render all it's bitter attack.

Surrender now to black heart's demand.

End of Line.
Gerrad!