Best Inner Conflict Poems


Don’t You Dare Stay, Don’t You Dare Leave

I didn’t ask you to come.
You came anyway--
like sympathy could scrub
the blood off my breath.
Don’t you see?
My grief is mine.

You’re holding tissues
like they matter.
You’re speaking
like you understand.
You don’t.
Not the burn. Not the echo.

Let me fall.
Let me break and
crawl through it--
I need the splinters
to feel like proof
that I was touched at all.

And yet,
if you leave now
I will hate you
more
than I already hate
everything else.

Premium Member Grave Kitchen and Skies Conflicts

We heavily consider the value of existence,
For a quest of bias, a path of prole resistance,
Assess our inner selves clearly and briefly,
Our goals have gotten us afar deeply.

Skepticism conveys the root of all hatred,
If there is vital strife, tempers are shattered,
Reason and fact provide the basis of love,
They've ne'er started, and ne'er seen above.

When deep chaos is no longer obnoxious,
The greater the rise, the greater the noxious,
The idea of lust and its quest is not at odds,
This proclaims the value of hatred wads.

 Any attempt to rile results is bound to fail,
Struggling for the forlorn while trapped in hell,
Intent on receiving but unwilling to supply,
I don't yearn to live since I'm daunted to die.
 
Expecting the best while having little,
I'm anxious to quit, but I will never belittle,
Trying to catch up after falling behind,
Aiming toward a goal with a dreamy mind.
 
I concocted a paradox in my imagination,
It is a battle that I must wage in isolation,
I hit a sequel within me to an auld skirmish,
Hidden in the depths that my thoughts furnish.

What remains inside is only pain and humor,
The unique items left are tears and rumors,
The unmistakable variable is the solace,
Ne'er has my dilemma felt so full of promise.

Your lack of shadows haunts you from behind,
My profound foul spirit, enlightened my mind.

Written: August 17, 2022

Inner Conflict Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Silence Cuts Deep

Words rest on my tongue,
sharp and heavy,
like shattered glass,
aching to spill.

But as they press against my lips,
ready to slice their way out,
a voice pulls me back:
They are not worthy of your fire.

And I pause.
I ask myself—
what’s stronger?
The urge to make them bleed,
or the strength to walk away
and let their silence swallow them whole?
© Arya Solo  Create an image from this poem.


Splitting

I operate in abundance of extremes,
Flirtish to skittish; kind-hearted to mean
I am a tolerant bigot or a emotional stoic
Yet everyone around me don’t even know it

The tug-o-war of conflicting interests 
Both teams in an endless contest
To control my fast twitch reflex
Of my best defence; verbal offence. 

Shutting people down from entering my mind
When I see the pity form their beady eyes
I don’t know if it’s pride or loathing 
When my tongue cuts words foreboding

the demise and destruction of myself and others
But I move forward for my mother and brothers
And with  the numbers of loved ones that every day grows
I need not fret of ever being left alone.

Blackened Sails

How often do these tiny blooms 
Of sorrow fill my soul?
In songs of fire lit long ago
Left burning by the snow.

How often do these solemn dreams
Speak of my troubled soul?
And sink my heart ten depths apart
From blackened tainted ores.

How often does my ship set sail
To silent, placid shores?
But sing to me of sirens' song
To pull me down below.
© A. Zylixis  Create an image from this poem.

Inner Conflict

As the sunsets
And the moon rises
The birds set to go home
A heart wanders and wonders
Seeing the deep waters
The secrets that lies beneath
Of fairies and demons
Ruled by an owl creek
Stories that are multi-fold 
And dark shadows to behold.
© Krupa Ns  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Inner Conflict

You wield a sword of words
that come to no conclusion
Born not from reason rather pain within
that leads you to false perceptions and intrusions
so anger can free itself once again

You hide in darker realms of needs
and stab with the sword of your emotions
inflicting pain to satisfy
in hopes, all are blind to what they see
your soul will die from the emptiness it bleeds





12/5/19 
contest If you live by the sword then you will die by the sword

Premium Member Inner Conflict

life tests by fire
finds soul tiring
rewire head-heart

Premium Member Seen, Not Saved

You hold a story of me that is not mine,
the version that smiles,
makes polite conversation,
tells just enough truth
to keep you satisfied.

But you’ve never witnessed the war.
How I fight against the silence,
how it curls into my lungs
until breathing is tantamount to failure.

I wake some mornings
to the sound of me thinking my own thoughts,
too loud, too sharp,
examining every small detail
I could’ve done differently.

They don’t teach you how to shed shame,
how to stop staring at yourself
as if something needs to be repaired.

You say,
"Talk to me."
But there’s no correct way to prepare
that I do not wish to be saved—
just sat with.
Just seen.
Without the expectation
of putting myself into words.

The Inner Conflict

Hush-
For there is a whisper in my head
What it speaks I dear to hear, 
I dread-
It’s filling me with doubt and fear
Two careless emotions
not needed here

It isn’t fair why
do I care to compare
My self with others
Is this but a human trait? 
Beneath is reckless confuse and debate 

I shall not give you gratification
In your ideal temptation 
I’ve fought to long to clear this distress 
Leave my brain and  
I’ will brake this chain 

Yes I will absolve this mess
From now on your not invited 
leave me now so I may be delighted 

To face my days and my nights 
Today I’m strong
but tomorrow I may lose this fight.

The Cold Hutch

Living in the sunless cold hutch of till death do us apart, sits a chipping soul.

Never had he thought she did be a blotch of many shades.
Spitting and pouring scorn on his dreams of a happy home.

“What? Are you even a man? Your mates are out there...”

Premium Member Inner Wars

The battle in your chest
Would make a strong heart tremble;
But I braced against the test:
Survival’s not so simple.

We marched until the boots
Split  seams from heavy wear;
My mother’s troubled roots
Turned  gray with every scare.

The hand that gripped my arm
Was scarred from every fray;
At every step that harmed,
My heart would start to sway.

You beat time on my soul
With a weight I could not see,
Then led me through the toll
Still leaning close to me.

Inner Conflict I

For Unseeker Seeker 
Inner Conflict 
Poetry Contest
13 / August / 2022

I instantaneously after reading this
thought this one has got my name 
all over it and is just for mr

The best and only possible way I could
try to explain how my inner conflict
manifests itself to me is this

Imagine if you will my life as a out of
control runaway train with no driver
at the helm about to crash 

Then I am the only passenger sat on
the roof in the best seat in the house
with a totally unobscured view strapped 
firmly in

So I get a bird's eye view of the disaster
that is about to enfold

And all I can do is hope and pray it
comes quickly and puts an end to
the endless swirling butterflies and
sleepless night's

Of the conflict I toil with most of all
the possible damage I may be doing
and am inadvertently placing on other's

Wishing willing wanting only to help me
yet cannot help or are no help at all

Porcelain Play

You tell me to stop
How can I
When the porcelain play never stops
It has to keep going
For the crowd 

Yet, the cracks...
They are slowly taking over
Slowly breaking 
my so carefully built play
my life
my happiness 
The cracks get bigger, can they see? 
no amount of joy can seal them now.
The crowd, it laughs. I'm glad. They don't need to see my cracks 
Yet...
Is this the end?
Is this where my porcelain facade finally shatters?
Will this be the final bow? The last act before it ends?
Will I be brave enough to take my last bow? 

No..I cannot.
 I try to gather my broken porcelain pieces back together, hastily.
  I don't care how they are put, as long as they are hiding the scared, frail monster. 
I look up at the crowd knowing, tonight won't be the last act. 
The show must go on, for now and forever because of my cowardly behaviour. I don't bow. 
I finish with a grin, a wide tooth filled grin that is the perfect finishing touch to my porcelain facade. 
My perfect disguise.
 My beautiful porcelain play

Ansgt

In mental stasis, I remain,
Moving restlessly, never inane.
Nomadic actions, thoughts immobile,
A dichotomy within, deeply hostile.

Self-pity offers a deceptive release,
A dopamine hit, a false sense of peace,
Clawing at myself, seeking the thrill,
Lacerating tendons, a need to fulfil.

Red-handed, pale-hearted, I stand,
Distanced, departed, to the unknown land.
Uncharted, unguarded, my soul's domain,
Discarded, disregarded, from my own disdain.
That started from stopping...

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace