Grip the steering wheel
White knuckles means no blood
That's what I'm about to be
Bloodless, I suppose.
Too late to turn out of the way
The crunching metal is all I hear
The sound of my rib cage cracking
Like splintering of a tree
The first few thoughts I have
I don't feel any pain yet
Time is measured in thoughts
Because seconds are all I have
I could see it really slowly
The steering wheel pushed through my chest
Then the crimson that kept me alive an well
Overflowed like a cup too full
I could feel pain again
Started out soft but grew to needles
Needles in every part of me
I was told to never watch the needles
Because that made it hurt more
But I can't really move my neck
So I'll watch until I go
I smell something metallic
Could be my blood or could be the car
The taste is something acidic
But it's getting sweeter than before
The last thought I keep having
Probably the last I'll ever have
They say life flashes before your eyes
And you are all I see.
