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[change]
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.
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