3rd Annual Poems About Suicide Month

[Bueller]

I careen around corners,
trying not to smash
into people, break them like glass
as they cross the street.
Children in strollers,
joggers on leashes are all going
about their days as if order exists:
as if all cars have brakes
and all drivers, control.
All I can do is accelerate
and slam into this row
of cop cars, just to stop.

A more benign case of "suicide by cop" than most (in which the suicide forces police to kill him).  With airbags, though, probability of success is low - more a "call for help" scenario.  Very effectively written.

So, if I try to kill myself by slamming into a cop car and end up on death row for killing the cop, have I achieved my goal?