Short little Danny Phantom poem. Interpret as you will.
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Some nights, he chases death
through alleyways and backyards,
adrenalin in his veins.
.
Some nights, he chases death
in hopes that he might taste its
bitter touch—its awful pain.
.
Some nights, he chases death
because death is all he knows
when life is circling the drain.
.
Some nights, he chases death,
but death escapes and leaves him
standing, freezing in the rain.
.
Tonight, he talks with death;
sore and bloody, out of breath,
he taunts it, like a game.
.
"Is that the best you got?"
.
And the ghost, areek with rot
eyes afire, skin drawn taut,
rises and takes aim.
.
Some nights, he chases death,
to what end, no one can guess.
Even he cannot explain.
.
It's not that he embraces death;
—he just stands upon the railroad tracks
and waits there for the train.
.
Tonight, he waits for death;
bleeding, waits, with bated breath—
yet he waits alone in vain.
.
He expects this night to end,
bleeding on cracked concrete—
He expects a black Oblivion
as reward for his defeat.
.
He wants a grisly end, wants to see the other side,
But nothing comes, so once more,
he picks himself up off the floor,
and holds his wounded pride;
.
He picks himself up,
and once more
gives life another try.
.
The boy with snow white hair and glowing, ghostly eyes—
Some nights, he chases death, and that's how he survives.
.