Ice Cream

I am just soft serve 

dipped in hard chocolate 

melting on the inside 

but still remaining solid

to the eyes of the beholders

I am older now 

things are easier to get over now 

I have grown accustomed to the cold shoulders

and these boulders wrapped around my ankles 

some nights I get tangled 

sometimes these boulders are the only things keeping me stable

and anchored 

some times I let my anger lead the way 

I don’t always see the way

I don’t always need this pain 

but it is always there 

and it sits here when no one else will

still

most nights I get tired of feeling this same old pain

attatched to the same old temptations to take the pain away 

for just a moment

cause if these breathes leave my body

who will really notice?

who has really noticed?

who has really been there when I was at my lowest?

who really knows this 

but me 

maybe it’d be easier if I wasn’t me 

maybe it be easier to love me 

if I wasn’t the one thing holding me back 

This poem is about: 
Me

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