Hate the sound
of whirling drills
White coated techs
prepping for the thrill
The Dentist enters
light goes on
Open Wide
his only song
He probes and pulls
gum and cheeks
Taps the enamel
on the teeth
Starts to grind
the decay away
Asks the question,
'Root Canal today? '
Sure to leave
with a numbed up face
Don't forget the check
don't lick the empty space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is great! Humorous, and TRUE! ! !