Flying across the freeway in this manufactured cocoon;
Tires and engine are humming in unison;
There are too many of these to count in the distance;
And potential for Death to strike lives in each one.

I see another car break the invisible barrier of white dotted lines;
Heading steadily towards me, in my cocoon.
Along with this impact my mind slows down this time;
It believes that this time will be the last.

This once familiar setting is crumbling, breaking;
Glass is smashing and my body cannot protect itself.
What an unremarkable way to go;
I feel as though Death should not be arriving, not here, not now.

What choice do I have but to accept this?
Has my life been worthwhile or just a waste of time?
A difficult thing to consider when becoming the victim of a twisted metal shroud;
Shall I rest in peace after this violent death?