Ways to Die on a City Street

When you’re tired of life, a city street

Is an excellent place to die.

If it’s your maker you’re longing to meet,

Go outside. This verse will tell why.


A cleaner is sprucing a window

Precariously high, he’s earning his bread,

When he lets go of his bucket though,

It picks up speed before hitting your head.


A woman is walking her pitbull,

She’s well fit, the dog’s friendly, it’s fine.

But while you’re busy getting an eyeful,

The Bus driver just cannot stop in time.


This morning you hear on the news,

A loony’s escaped from the bin.

It’s a million to one that he meets you,

But your dismal lotto numbers are coming in.


A Vendor is selling his lunch snacks,

You buy something he’s claiming is meat.

That afternoon you soil your own slacks,

By evening your immune system’s beat.


In my opinion, there are too many foes

When you dare to venture outside.

I’m staying indoors reading poems and prose

And scribbling away on Protagonize.

The End

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