BY DR. AGONSON
No hope, there’s only pain until I die.
This fracture, long ago mended by white
façade, nearly a score of years did lie
complacently, but now it comes to light.
Anon, th’ infected root must be destroyed.
But presently, each pulse precedes inflamed
writhing, every slight touch draws to the void
my desperate soul. It was that I was maimed,
for when to see how fast that I could fly,
harsh gravity dashed me upon the ground.
Thus broke in two, a false half was prescribed,
but it was dead, and so will I be found.
It’s only moments now until the drills,
and I’ll be sleeping as the dentist kills.