Growing up is a painful process, Necessarily so. Seeing through the mirage, looking through the glass. You enter the part called growing up. Tis the start of the worst to come.
Grownup yet never old, always learning, always hurting. You thought this time its over, the price was paid the debt was dead. The past and the future blend into one never leting you leave. And the monsters just keep growing.
On your death bed, The last part of growing up, the end of your days. Pain seems to take a shape. A familiar one you've knew all along. Creeping ,crawling under places you've never looked but always knew. With your final breath, the monsters under your bed greet you like an old friend