I Wrote Yet Another Poem

"An Irish Cyclist Foresees His Death"

I know that on a Citi Bike
Somewhere I shall meet my end;
But there are drivers who I like,
And not all bikers are my friend;
The question is, are rules your guide?
And do you stay inside your lane?
If not, I'll have a shitty ride,
And you will be the one to blame.
When heavy tires, shards of glass
Cut my veins or crush my spine;
I hope they charge your sorry ass
And make sure that you do your time.
I'll balance all, bring all to mind.
Drivers, walkers, bikers, death.
If you think you're exempt from rules
I'll curse you with my dying breath.