​fond memories of pain

It was years ago and I was young, I would play all day out in the sun.

I fell from shed roofs, bikes and apartment dumpsters,

Oddly few trees, though once I did fall from a stack of lumber.

I was tough as kids back then tend to be, I would wipe the blood as no one tends to me.

scraps and such, breaks and dings,

as a child you would think this was the point of being.

Now I admit that in the moment I scrarcly felt a thing,

not pain, nor the recovery after injury but the joy existing.

so time marches on and years go by and what do I have to show?

This broken body with scars and spots from places i was told not to go.

I used to hold the joy of life, promise of tomorrow ,

But now I am slow to get back up and find myself in sorrow.

memories can be scars too , they cover me from inside,

what happend to the little boy, laughing in the sunshine?

impervious to being beat and unable to hold pain?

He grew up in a world that he created and now must pay for everything.