Too young to burn

Bang, bang, bang—jump. Bang, bang, bang—run. Bang, bang, bang—do something about this. Bang, bang, bang—you’re not too young... What do I do when the world is ablaze? 'Focus on yourself, don’t sweat the trivialities,' they say. But what do I do when my world is in flames? They tell me to assist, so I force myself to appear resolute and capable, 'Just a bit more.' Yet I’m weary now—exhausted from smiling, fatigued from fighting everyone else’s battles, solving others’ dilemmas. Am I too young to believe this will all conclude soon? They insist I’m young, but am I too young? Everyone relies on me, expects me to rise and stand firm, but I’m so drained I can scarcely breathe. Thinking is overwhelming—there’s far too much to accomplish. They claim I’m too young, 'Don’t act so mature,' yet in the same breath, they say, 'Be an adult.' Aren’t they the same? What’s happening? So many depend on me. They say I’m too young... Am I too young to save my burning world? I strive to remain steadfast, to persevere, but the burden of their expectations suffocates me. The flames of the world dance in my reflection, and I question if I can endure it any longer.