Growing pains

The little things inside our heads
All seemed as real as rain.
They doused us with their worry
And drenched us with their pain.
But bear we did
And stand we did,
Until our body dried.
Then learn we did
And grow we did,
Until our childhood died.


The thing I liked about this poem when I wrote it was the looking at ideas from different perspectives; inside and out. It starts with a look at the preoccupations of our childhood perhaps 'trivial' to outsiders (adults), but filled with anxiety and fear for us then. It then moves through the growing up and the realization of how the process works. Finally we see how silly it was for us to have been so pent up by things when we were young. Of course the twist at the end is that the child from the inside sees themselves as grown up, while the adult sees that the truth is more tragic than this; the child has in fact died (ceased to exist). The impact of this is, I think, profound and affecting.



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