A pity-full poem about my spasmy old back.

Oh back pain.
I rue you...
reminder of my age;
torturer of my spine;
constant, nagging
incessant and all-too-
PAINFUL
silly thing to follow
me around like a
swollen little troll
who wants his reward -
a sort of Rumplestiltskineque
stinky little gnarly-faced
annoyance.

I have tried to
ignore you...
to focus instead on
the many blessings
hidden in each day like
sparkling jewels of dew
in springtime grass in
early, early morning that
smells of dawn and promise.

But you are hurty.
And stubborn.
And slipping into
more and more
muscles each day...
leaving bite marks
in your wake and
making 36 feel pretty
poopy indeed.