Masochist's Song

Everyone feels some sort of pain
It's one of the world's inevitable truths.
It can barely scratch the surface,
Or it can shake you to your roots.

Some hide their pain from prying eyes,
Some wear it on their sleeves.
Some feel pain for a short time,
But for me it never leaves.

You may call me a masochist,
You may call me insane,
But my self-inflicted agony
Assures that blood still runs through my veins.

You question my reasoning,
"Nothing could be that bad!"
With the world as it is now,
Your naive ignorance is almost sad.

No one can change my perception
The choices I make now are mine.
I know what it could do to me,
And I'm not afraid to die.