My checkup’s looming in the air.
can’t deny it.
must face it.
sit in the hot seat,
the pain begins,
loud screaming from different stages.
small discussions with scrapers,
piercing shouts from drills.
Is my relationship
still salvageable?
the final tool comes out
to rip a part of me.
It’s inevitable
the heartbreaking root canal begins,
say goodbye
to whatever love I
once had for that tooth.
dreaded sugar and sweets are
the culprit.
aspects that get in the way
always cause rotting.
Of course,
not every check up will
lead to extracted teeth.
Sometimes
a good drilling is the
sole solution.
My teeth and I
are strong enough to make it t
through sugary damage.
One day,
we shall mature,
and a new tooth will
replace the hole
and will
remain
despite the nasty checkups ahead.
After all,
it’s all for the betterment of me
isn’t it?