Pretium Animam- Original Poetry / Narrative

So despite having signed up to this site a while ago I really haven't gotten into the swing of things yet, and to be honest I've been a little unsure of what kind of content to share here. I recently decided to get back into creative writing (after a five-year hiatus), so I figured maybe it would be nice to share something and get some feedback.

This poem was the first creative writing project I've worked on for quite some time, so forgive me if I am a bit rusty. I initially wanted to stretch it into a narrative, but this is proving to be difficult; as you can see for yourself, the dialog in the second section is a bit awkward, the third is really a stretch in terms of following a rhyming scheme, and poem in its entirety doesn't stay truly consistent to the structure outlined in the first section. However, I think it may be enjoyable for some of you to read.

Also a disclaimer: this poem is influenced by gothic and romantic literature so if you are offended by dark themes then perhaps this isn't for you.

Pretium animam- I

Banished from the green fields of home
We have been forced to the sea.
Mephistopheles has collected his toll,
And even in our dreams, we cannot be free.

Beyond all that the eyes can see, stretches the sea.
Sails shrouded in wings of black.
Untie the mainsail, set the flag free
We cannot return, there is no turning back.

The waters, the sky, all painted in black.
All of this for Iscariot’s silver
And now the lord won’t take us back.
But I still have hope for a glimmer in never-ending winter.

For there is a shimmer from the unspent silver.
And perhaps the devil is not a terrible bet.
We may find warmth in the winter,
at the cost of making the lord fret.

Pretium animam – II

The captain turned to me and said;

May the tempest and torrent torment our travels.
Perhaps it’s what we deserve;
Perhaps the Lord wants our will to unravel
But it won’t, for we know who we serve.

I sighed and replied:

Is it so that the damned must demand what they deserve?
Had we stayed, they had their blades;
Surely our heads would have been served.
Why bother to take to the sea, at least we would have died in the glades.

He said:

Boy, bade farewell to bitter talk of blades.
The behemoth provides more than you could ever pray;
Besides, you miss your family who died in those glades.
But you ought to remember who took from you that day.

He may patronize, but he was right; it had been so long since I prayed.
My mother, my father, my sister, and my brother.
All I could remember was the grisly display I found on that day.
As if the Lord had abandoned us; is it any wonder we turned to the other?

Pretium animam- III

I had my doubts, could we really be presenting ourselves to the mammon mouth?
Yes, he allowed for our revenge;
But are we sure that we must resign to be uncouth?
The fear of death was always present, but now what fate should I envisage?

When the trilots fell before our blades, I could taste the bittersweet of revenge.
Their breaths waned, and they cried out in pain.
But what else could they have envisaged?
For what they had done, they deserved the same.

Yet with each blow I sent, I too felt pain.
Though I wanted them dead, I still felt guilt.
They too were people all the same.
Yet we destroyed their families, their crops, and all they had built.

What a strange feeling this guilt.
When you know that those you harmed may have deserved it.
Yet those who were a part of the lives they had built,
Did they too deserve to get torn bit by bit?