Three Two Two

A short terza rima I wrote around the end of my latest college semester. The title refers to my English 322 class about pre-modern world literature.

Here is where I fell.

Pen in hand, tooth and nail

I fight my way out of Hell.

 

Weakened, should I bail?

I must do ten pages

Or else I fail.

 

I don’t care for changes.

This storm has gone

Yet Hell still wages

 

Its assault past dawn.

For me, more tests await

To try my mental brawn.

 

Leaving through this gate

I see more fools:

I realize I’m too late.

 

My current tools

May not serve well

Against the tide of ghouls

 

Populating this new Hell.

Now I stand alone.

Oh well.