The worry, the uncertainty, the pain--
The pain that can intensely-madly-sear.
I have had thoughts quickly consume the brain.
They gnaw away at my spent and worn soul
With no mercy for the terrible strain.
I have felt the merciless tear and toll
Of that awful grey and opaque unknown
I have wondered if I’ll ever be whole
But then every struggle, I have grown
And at length the healing will always start.
Those young seeds of strength are carefully sown
E’en though confidence has been torn apart.
I have been one acquainted with my heart.
This is very against my usual style of poetry. There’s everything: punctuation, capitalization, a set meter, and rhyming. All of which I’m not particularly a fan of when it comes to poetry. This is, however, one of the few poems that I’ve actually sat down and spent some serious time on. It’s a mimic of Robert Frost’s “Acquainted with the Night”.
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