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braces
November 5, 2014
the honeyed hope
of maybe today they'll go away and leave
me in peace
is quickly replaced by
tight and tiny
rubber
bands-
how do they even stretch that far?-
and
rubber that bites you back,
top to bottom; triangles or squares?
they ask
(not to you but the orthodontist, the
evil mastermind behind your years of mouthly torture)
and they- the wolves in sheep's clothing-
give you promises of liberation
that will obviously be broken.
but
leaving the office,
a thought
trickles in-
the honeyed hope
of maybe next time...
I'll be free.
© Samantha A., Southbury, CT
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Inspired by the three years of braces torture I've had.