Maybe I’m a masochist.

Won’t find gashes on my wrist.
Feisty little anarchist,
It’s my mind that forms a fist.
Started off an atheist,
against the grain and off the list.
I’m no magnet, some resist.
Some like you, choose to persist.
Baby, you’re a masochist.

The ride is rough
Destination unknown
No safety vest
No life line thrown

Feeling sea sick
The ground it wobbles
Not smooth or easy
It’s rough and cobbled

Yet here I am
unafraid and strong
I may be weak
But I’m not wrong

My shell is frail
as are nerves
But grip is strong
Holds tight on curves

It may be small
but it’s so loud
So i will grab it
Tightly held

When all is chaos
when all will crumble
My tiny hope
will make the loudest rumble

Step out of your own way.

The more you flail and seek,
the less you will find.
Like fighting your way out of quicksand,
the more you struggle, the more you bind.

Bravery is here for us all.
You can let go, it’s okay,
there is a soft place to fall.