Tomorrow is the root canal. I write an ode in anticipation –
My tooth,
you hurt my face
I squirrel away pain meds,
just in case
If I had known then
What I know now
I would have gone more to the dentist
Some way. Some how.
But do I deserve this pain?
I floss! I brush!
It's insane
But tomorrow should be the end
And my mouth will be on the mend
I'll probably eat through a straw
And cry for my ma
But on Friday I'll rise
Maybe even eat french fries
Because my mouth will feel great
If not, I'll medicate
The End
How's that for an ode? It's obvious now why I'm not a poet. You know it. I show it. Haaaaa.
That and, except for Maya Angelou, who's making money that way? And really, doesn't she do less "poetry", more like free-form talking?
If you never see a post here again, Maya Angelou's people came and got me for questioning her skillz.
At least I'll be feeling no pain when they get there.
Stay classy, Internet. And remember – all the cool kids drool on themselves.
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