I’m not mature for my age,

I just have empathy

and the eldest sister mentality.

Tender roots, tender tree,

why did I let this happen to me?

The roots burrow into the ground

hitting the Earth’s core.

Attached to grooves filled with 

worries and stress. 

The theme of my life

enraged in flames;

Slash and burn could create a scorn

and leave the following saplings torn. 

Do I really want this

to be my lore?

The orchard could go up in flames,

and the only thing left

(that is, survived) 

is the pain left behind.

I planted seeds

hoping the souls would sprout old, 

but they came to life

in a burst of light, startling gold

a contrast to Moon.

Who has been in my head and heart 

since I rose like a phoenix

from the womb. 

I put the fire there,

I was the spark.

The family tree came down

to me and I took the blame

hoping no one else would

guide themselves to flames. 

I’m not mature for my age,

I am just selfish

and selfless without an ounce of pride,

hoping and praying the emotions

will hide to prove I tried 

A continuous loop of 

growing

and

    burning,

tending to a fire

while a tree grows.

Do you think they will

inherit all my woes?