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Pain Introspection Poems | Introspection Poems About Pain

These Pain Introspection poems are examples of Introspection poems about Pain. These are the best examples of Pain Introspection poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Light Poetry |

Burka Woman

Such deep amber green eyes
Stare into me
Like arrows that so delicately pierce my heart
She is covered in a curtain of black woven cloth
Ah but her hair flows like caramel 
She is concealed and wrapped, the camouflage of fear
The burka hiding the princess within
I may not see with my eyes
Oh but how my heart dreams
Of running in the meadows, laughter at our own happiness
Her voice is musical, and softly charms my soul
I am lost in illusions, of this woman in chador
She hides inside this blackness
Her heart protected by dragons
In the dragons lair so deep
I gaze intently into this darkness
I breathe the fire of rejection
I have no chance with this maiden of such beauty
You see
Her dress is blue like the summer breeze
Her hair blonde like the golden skies
She is the desire of many a suitor
As she sleeps in the drum tower
High above all of loves intentions
The bailey her only wanderings
As you see the only burka she ever wore
Was around her heart


Details | Free verse |

Interalphabetnet sex stew



Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed 
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
 mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling 
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in 
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk? 
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang 
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your 
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new 
generation which skewer post present parental postulates 
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate 
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions. 
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it, 
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit 
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize, 
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil, 
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder, 
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx, 
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we 
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket 
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued 
prominantly with no recall references to problematic 
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.



Details | Rhyme |

The Hypocritical Christian

I am the hypocritical Christian.
I say I follow Christ,
But I'm still consumed by my demons.
I go to church on Sunday,
But I refuse to invite someone back.
I want to serve on mission,
But I'm too afraid to act.
They think I read The Bible,
But I just fall asleep in it.
They think I'm positivity and smiles,
But underneath I'm death and addictions.
They think I'm clean and pure,
But I'm broken and mistaken.
I say I'm not worthy of His love,
But Jesus will never let me be forsaken.
I pray long prayers,
But inside they're empty repetition.
It might look as if my faith is strong,
But my core is too easily shaken.
I say the things I'm supposed to say,
But don't follow His actions or obey.
I speak the truth the church wants to hear,
But deep inside on matters I don't know what to believe.
I walk in shame as if I'm not good enough
To be loved by God and saved through Christ,
But there is nothing I could ever do to earn His peace;
It's a free gift.
I accept;
Now forgiven, changed, and released.
Thank You God,
Thank You Jesus,
Thank You Holy Spirit!
In Jesus' Holy Name,
We pray,
Amen!


Details | Quatrain |

Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.


Details | Free verse |

I know (Oppression)

One thing that I know all about, without any doubt
        The meaning of “Oppression of The Soul.”
               I once shattered all my dreams, with ill-gotten schemes
                      Along with every single goal
Emptiness is a real dark thing
        As it eats its way through your soul
              I found the bottom of the pit, all I can say of it
                       It truly was a very empty hole
I guess every story has a meaning
         Just as every game has a price
              If you look closely at me, you’ll be able to see
                      A lifetime of pain in my advice
Oppression is a real dark word
        Regardless of how the word is used
                 If you’re in the shadow of it, the bottom the pit
                          You know what it means to be abused
For years I walked in the shadows
      I had nothing but hatred for the Son
                I just couldn’t see, why it had to be
                        All the things in my life that had been done
If you were to look into my eyes
      And read all the stories they have to tell
            All you would be able to see, is pain and misery
                   A shadow that was in a living hell
I know all about oppression
     For it rolls upon the shores of hate
        I once looked in the mirror to see, a ghost living in me
             Just a skeleton walking through his fate
I also know all about redemption
     Behind every shadow there rest some form of light
                   With in the breath of a prayer, I learned how to care
                           Thus changing the course of my plight
Every story has a meaning
        There is a way to right any wrong
                Grasp to the light, and then hold on tight
                          As you search for the meaning of your song
My song once was heavy metal
         I truly loved to bang my head
                 An empty soul, with a bottomless hole
                          A never-ending hunger to be fed
Now my song is a ballad
        A story that is full of hope and love
                I learned how to pray, and give it away
                       Accepting grace from the Lord above
Oppression crosses our paths everyday
        It is everywhere to see
                You know what’s right, learn to stand and fight
                       You will have learned to be all that you can be
 

Written for the "Oppression of the Soul Contest)


Details | Rhyme |

My Parent

My Parent

The rules said “one parent not two”
Good for me as I only had you
No selection; no one to choose
Who is this parent; just follow the clues

Next rule; write something “profound” 
Something good or something that makes you frown
This one was easy 
Considering all you ever said was greasy

“You stupid _____”
This one was rich
“Go get the belt”
Not satisfied till there was a welt 
The pain is still felt

How about “you swine”
Became a preference in time
Not “go to bed”
Followed by a blow to the head
So hard could have become brain dead

Your scars are still here
Your pain I still wear
Your mistakes I still bare
Your voice I still hear

Your secrets I now declare
Your presence I no longer fear
Your wrong doings I am aware
Your hate is replaced with tender loving care

Did you follow the clues
Who's this in reference to
Someone you want to be related to
Perhaps it’s someone you already do
This is my parent… I wish it were untrue!

Lay


**For "My Parent" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts.
* Honorable Mention







Details | Free verse |

Lies Of Perfection

in the night, he reaches, my body responds, aching to be near 
yet the mind screams, pulls back inside its deep recesses
familiar pain rears, sits nonchalantly, laughing, taunting me 
is it I who am loved or am I just involved in the act of love 
the end justifying the means, a single moment, a brief interlude 
conveniently remembered and enacted, how can one truly tell? 

I opened my heart and yet I know, I'm not what he was looking for
the knowledge leaves me cold and saddened, ice forming around my core 
rejection, inferiority, second best, all words that accurately describe 
yet leave no telltale signs of the great pain that they have inflicted 
reality and yet my hands roam freely his body as I welcome him inside 
to lie buried deep within my being, my heart beating furiously

the sheer joy of being loved blocking out the fear, feeding on hope 
even if his emotions are not real, every fibre of my being yearns 
to one day capture all his love, to see it expressed in his eyes 
to silently carve my essence indelibly upon his heart,
to feel it in his smiles warmth, as his eyes adore each curve  
the knowledge that says you are mine and I will love you always 

everyone wants perfection, those that know that they are not 
nor ever will be the one, suffer from the lies of perfection 
so here I lie, accepting the very little that is being offered 
praying to someday find more, existing in that in between world 
between shadow and light, where nothing is clear, everything is shaded
needing to be perfection to someone, as I breathe deeply with eyes drifting into 
my dreams, helplessly staring across the bed of my future
 


Details | Free verse |

First Thing You Should Know 2

First thing you should know, is this isn’t a poem, it’s not a story, it’s not a song.  These 
are just the mad ramblings of a genius with a headache. 
Watching the smoke curl between his fingertips, he wonders.  Is it his body that’s on 
fire or his soul?  Physically he feels fine yet he sees the flames, inside the pain is 
excruciating yet, not a scratch to be seen.  Isn’t that a thought though, not a scratch to 
be seen on his soul.  Why is it that the scratches and cuts that do the most damage are 
the ones you can never see?  How can that much pain not leave a visible mark?  How 
much pain can the soul take before it turns into the story of humpty dumpty, never to 
be put back together again?  Isn’t it funny how you can forget your dying, when you 
have died inside?
First thing you should know, is this isn’t a poem, it’s not a story, it’s not a song.  These 
are just the mad ramblings of a genius with a headache.


Details | Free verse |

Who am I

In the mirror on Vishu morning I see an Indian woman
Whose Brooklyn tongue can't form Hindu prayers.
Can I bleach my skin to match my voice?
Can I scrape my tongue to match my face?
I've resigned myself to my fate--
Forever asking the sky
"Njan aara?"
In a language my children will never recognize,
In an accent my grandparents will never understand.
I am what my parents feared I may become;
A child whose soul has turned Westward;
A woman whose only memories of Diwali are the flickering lights.


Details | Free verse |

Loving and Breathing (Dilemma of The Broken Hearted)

Inhaled at the age of innocence,
with a breath that lies between stars,
with immortal depths that have no
ending as my lungs forever expand,
Exhalation has become unachievable,
due to the obstruction of faith
of a boy for his very first dream,
Chest heaving as a heart aches,

Is love a tree or the deepest ocean?
My breath or my reason for holding?
The questions unanswered since the 
dawn of man and emotion alike,
Thus the bittersweet conclusion
appears that love equals the two,
Yet how does such beauty create
a pain that suffers from insomnia?

Expendable only to a few torn souls
who have breathed the sweet intoxication
of love, and caressed the linger of its enticing
aroma, and suffered the sting of its departure,
Leaving hearts which cannot withstand the
agony, to exhale affection for everything in
its entirety, crushing the hope of such youths,
yet this warning takes nothing from its appeal,

For to breathe love, is to touch enchantment,
As romance itself in but a breathe shared 
between two spirits rewarded for persistence,
With the risk of being proven fallible,
which leads to tears and pain entwined,
Must we not embrace the risk as reward?
For those as myself, who answered "no"
are condemned to the most fragile breathing,

For each breath hurts like the last
One love, one lost, one breath in all,
Breathing her in as if she has become
the last breath of oxygen in my life,
For she has, she has become my only,
due to a choice made for the perfect love,
Yet my painful irony has become, breathing
and loving, with each one, keeping 
the agony of the other alive forever


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