Inner Conflict

By Chant Gud

My hands are strictly bound,
My heart will never be found,
These feelings within torment,
I’m now out of shape, all bent,

This scar on my wrist,
Shows that death missed,
My angel up high saw,
Guided me away to a door,

As I got closer, I was still out of range,
I want want thins anymore, I want change,
So I closed my eyes to envision you,
My heart stopped to what is true,

I’m struggling to breathe,
I don’t want to leave,
You keep calling my name,
Maximising my hatred and shame,

Stop, stop, stop, please don’t,
I shouldn’t, I can’t, I won’t,
This temptation is too much,
I’m not strong enough to touch,

So I must recede to my room,
Before you become my doom,

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Pick Me Up Poetry seeks to be an agent of change in society by fostering cross-cultural dialogue and providing much-needed information and representation for writers and performers. We offer our followers insightful glimpses into cultures around the globe through various mediums including our online articles, poetry collections, spoken-word videos and more. 

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