Danger’s Edge

This is a given title poem about an adrenaline junkie. I am certain if I had the choice, the guts, the access and the money, I would be doing all of this.

Danger’s Edge

Where is that bit of time between one breath? Where it holds itself inside the lungs? Where it wonders if it’s a scream or a sigh that will pass the lips of that mouth.

To see what danger looks like.

Who’s edge is traveled? Who’s step is the last and the other the first? Who’s walking through the marsh, to reach the other side?

To see what danger looks like.

Why is a brush of ink on paper some catastrophic choice that catapults a greater thing into an abyss of chaos? Why are these the choices?

To see what danger looks like.

How is danger’s edge that place sought and pushed up against? How is this choice here? How is this choice now?

To see what danger looks like.

When the broken smile of the inner child is formed by the glaring truth that the world isn’t fair even when the she does her best not to fail.

The edge of danger, invites us to look, and we stare, while the world hold’s it’s breath for the first and last step, the brush of ink, the choice, and a broken smile of victory and defeat.

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