The pressure caving in, the heat of the moment burns me.
I miss the simplicity of when I was young,
For now, the pressures caving in.
I cry, the tears never reaching the ground,
And I yell, in anger, but the words never leave my mouth.
I think, harder than ever before, and know, my questions will never be answered.
Why must becoming older bring more responsibility?
Why must it bring the weight of knowledge, the knowledge all the young crave?
I see now, I don’t want to grow older,
The responsibilities and privileges I would gladly trade, trade for my old life.
Why must we remember?
We may not experience things, people again!
We must remember.
One responsibility of growing old is that of memories.
While young we don’t need or have much to remember,
As I grow that changes.
I come to realize I must remember all the great people,
Those who died fighting and those who died of age, they are gone.
I mustn’t let it sadden me, the people that must leave.
For then I will live a sad life, and none will remember.
It is me they won’t remember.