Injustice comes in a White Coat.
By stoggie
This room, white and bland, With screams roaming the halls, Lessoning the spirit of each man. I wait in a wooden chair, With a cheap slander magazine in hand. My last companion. The looks on their faces, As if waiting for war, Watch those who are returning, Resembling wounded soldiers. Battled and scorned. But not a noise is made, By the soldiers in waiting. The ring of the bell, “Number 72!” Shouts the lady at the desk. “Oh damn, that’s me.” I thought in regret. I wish to run, to hide, To disappear from sight. My knees are buckling, And I’m fearing this upcoming fight. “Please, sit down.” Says the man in the white, As if offering a final resting spot. "Bite down on this" He says. Shoving the mold already too big for my mouth... further...deeper, in to my jaws. In spite of my pleading. The blades, the blood. My tears too scared to be shown, I’ve not done wrong to any soul, Yet I still receive this injustice, From this tyrant, this demon… This dentist! Written April 16th, 2002 © on Apr 16 2002 11:18 AM PST 0 • 14
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"This room, white and bland,..."