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Growing Pains
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The Pixie Dust Growing up will never be easy.
There’s always pain that comes.
Before you know it, your body stretches.
You get tall, and suddenly, you can see over the sink.
Adults start asking for your opinion,
And you’re expected to have one on who should win an election.
You are talked to differently, with voices a few octaves lower,
Some in ways a human ear could never grace.
When you look in the mirror,
You see not just a face.
The eyes that look back, mirrored anxious expectations
About some life we don’t even have yet, but are told we need.
And we ask it why it looks so sad
Only to receive silence because to speak out loud
Means we are crazy.
Harboring hate happens faster than a chemical reaction.
Screaming when the pain becomes too much is “dramatic.”
These “growing pains” are invisible with age
And we are expected to keep out of sight, out of mind
Out of our own minds as time winds
Counter-clock to the counterfeit “I’m fine.”
Everything you thought you knew becomes false.
The scent of it makes you vomit at your ignorance,
And the stretch marks in red on your ankle and back
Remind you of how wrong you are;
Trusting: your biggest fault.
Letting everyone inside so they can run through the house
Break all the dishes on the floor,
Sweat staining the walls
Water and alcohol spilled all over the floors
Crayons criss-crossing across the walls.
Stuffed animals neatly places by your pillows
Knowing that someone will watch you sleep.
Counting sheep, no peeps, tears trickle, one, two, three
Nice and neat, repeat, no more concrete beneath your feet.
Jump.
Growing up will never be easy.
There’s always pain that comes.
