Let me tell you of the week I grew up.
No, not physically but mentally and emotionally.
The physical age does not matter;
what matters is that the week before I loved candy.
The week and every week after,
it tasted too much like medicine.
What happened to make me dislike candy so?
Easy, I was given enough medicine
that all I knew was chemicals
and overly sweet flavours colouring my little veins.
As they say, too much of anything is a bad thing.
I was in a hospital that smelled as hospitals do,
of cleanliness and death.
This one though,
it also smelt of candy.
I remember my parents signing
me in for an inpatient stay
I do not remeber
them signing me out.
They were going to fix my nerve pain.
I will say they tried,
as I remember days upon days of illness
and pain like non I had felt before.
The medicine made the floors a lake that would swallow me whole,
showers were the maws of great beasts filled with slime,
gardens bloomed with searing spikes of pain,
and family members were never real.
A week later they sent me home with new pain.
A week later they sent me home with new struggles,
A week later they sent me home all grown up.