Drillings And Fillings

Can you blame me

For running

When they were

Attacking me?

You see

I just hate

The feel of their

Little metal instruments

Scraping my teeth.

 

And the cotton wool

Shoved up between

Gum and cheek.

 

And the jet

Of cold air

As it runs over my mouth

Drying it

(Like I’m not thirsty enough

As it is)

 

They blind with

Their too bright light

Then offer a

Cup of suspiciously

Pink liquid...

 

 

So can you

Really blame me

For running?

 

I mean they are

Dentists

After all.