Trains roar around corners,

tumbling into an abyss of metal and wood,

assuming that they will be caught by

the brakes. 

Trains feel no fear of failure;

they are no more self-aware than my 

painted ceramic teapot sitting on the shelf. 

Yet their fearlessness never fails to astound me:

how can one simply leap into life

not knowing whether or not you’ll come back

okay

Anxiety has stolen my brazen youth,

the idea of change cripples my teenage fever

I am no machine,

I cannot dive into the wild without

dreading

dreading

dreading

the change I will inevitably undergo

No one leaves the woods the same

What monster could life make me into?

I 

fear 

my

plunge

into 

the future.