You're caught on the highway, speeding.
One moment, you were enjoying the night.
The stars speckle the sky like a splatter of freckles.
The moon's old face peers down with disappointment.
But you ignore them, rather watching in front of you.
The red lines of passerby vehicles paint your face
with crimson, covering the alcohol imbued blush
contaminating your cheeks.
Then it's game over for you. 
The lights shone behind you,
and you thought that maybe you can get away.
There's liquid confidence in your system;
it's already been fused with your blood,
your life essence.
Your foot goes to push the accelerator,
but your brain, as though thinking better, switches its position,
and weight on the brake leads the car
to the side of the ground.
The crackle of the gravel pierces your ears.
You roll your window down when the heavy door
SLAMS,
exposing your face to the howling wind,
nipping impolitely at your dazed expression.
The crinkle of boots are accompanied with
a downtrodden sigh.
The sight of an exhausted officer
makes your heart melt,
and you think how much of a
horrible
person
you
are.
She asks you to grab your license and registration,
and when she looks at you,
you can see the life which has been squandered
in them: the corpse of a lovely life brought to an end.
You don't resist when, a couple minutes later,
your hands were yanked behind your back
and secured with a pair of worn-down handcuffs,
the rough metal scraping against your wrists.
She's had enough today, and so have you.