We are the young

Life is hard, and cruel, and tough,
The truth is that we're not strong enough.
We worry, and toil, and face such strife, 
with all of this we cannot live a life.

There's no place for calm and play,
For we stress over our fees to pay. 
We work all day for very little wage, 
Even if it sends our health into a rage. 

We are the young, we are the afraid, 
We don't know what sad games life will play.
I have many thoughts, but I cannot say, 
For in this world, I have no place. 

I'm a grown-up now.

If I am only eighteen, and have many years left to live,
How many opportunities is fate going to give?
They come thick and fast at a tender fourteen,
When we make important decisions, but have not yet seen.

Now here I am, four years on and aged 'adult',
Waiting for my all important future depending result.
I'm a 'grown-up' now, or so I'm told,
But in reality, inside, I feel twelve years old.

I've to move out, and I have to get loans,
Meet new people, and go it totally alone.
I've never even had to pay a bill before,
Never been alone for those three weeks more.

For support, don't turn to college, there's nothing there,
As for university and banks, they're likely to scare.
So in all of this confusion, to whom do I turn?
It seems that all I need are answers, and oh how I yearn.

But I'm a 'grown-up' now, or so I'm told,
But in all honesty, inside I feel twelve years old.
Let me go back to that blissful time when,
I needed no answers, oh how things were simple then.

Oh please let me not worry or despair,
All I needed to know was how to plait my hair.
But I'm a 'grown-up' now, or so I'm told,
Inside, actually, I think I might feel ten years old...