Is it Me?

Is it Me?

Is it me
or did life get harder
when I turned eighteen?

Did the games we play
turn into nightmares?
Those doll house
turning into true horror houses.
Who knew
that the fun would end
and to survive we would have to bend
to uncompromising wind?

Though there were childhood horrors
they pale against the terror
of fighting untold torchbearers.

Did our daily bread transform
into a rocks
too hard to chew 
and deadly to consume?

Is it me
or does it seem
that finding the sun
means fighting the rain
so I can see again?