Chaos by Choice

She’d rather fly and suffer the fall,

Than be forced to walk or to crawl,

Living on edges where adventures wait,

While her daily strife seals her fate,

She crafts her own chaos by hand,

Building on shifting,  treacherous sand,

Refusing the anchor and the shore,

To hunt for a wide-open door, 

The bruises are badges of pride,

Earned on the mountain's wild side,

She’d trade a decade of peace,

For a moment of frantic release,

So let the cold heavens pour,

She’ll rattle the lock on the door,

Better to shatter in light,

Than fade in a painless night...