Young of age,
I had not yet learned the difference
Between illness and vigor.
I complained of an ache of body,
And my parents would reply with the usual:
It’s growing pains.
I listened to them and believed it natural.
Living in an old house,
I would play in the dirt like all the other kids,
And tended to suck on my fingers,
A nasty habit
As the townsfolk would clearly point out.
The pain grew worse,
And yet again, I would get the usual reply:
It’s just growing pains.
As I lay in my bed after mother and father put me to sleep,
I stare at the ceiling and slowly start to nod off,
Never to wake again,
For what everyone believed to just be
A bit of growing pain.