lachesism

The desire to be struck by disaster,

Or it’s just a thought.

Nobody knows what the story of my mind is,

Something that even makes me haunt.

 

The impulse of being in a plane crash,

It is always on my mind.

These deductions will help you see

That I’m nothing but just a fiend.

 

In search of a kink in the smooth arc of life

With obscure sorrow.

Whatever comes after me

I’ll face it like there is no tomorrow.

 

For some kicks

I’ll plunge over a waterfall,

But when death peek around the corner

I certainly won’t crawl.

 

The thrill of sprinting on the very brink,

With some vile shady thoughts or

Curiosity to see whether I stand tall or

WILL I FALL?

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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