It started with a Monday morning
that could be skipped staying snoring,
but then things might’ve been better,
and I wouldn’t have turned to this letter.
My gloomy, grumpy morning face
was unknowingly drifting to a horrid fate,
accepting calls as a working routine
like a piece of meat in an evil cuisine.
With all my soul within me burning
my already doomed stance went to turning
to be gifted a tooth aching in my mouth
just when I thought I was already way south.
The pain tortured me, in and out,
feeling just as conscious to avoid blackout;
while the universe kept me hitting.
I checked dentists’ numbers on the Maps,
but they were shown so far on the apps;
it was late for me already pushing the shift,
so I rather jumped down from a cliff.
You might be asking: how’s this writing;
it was my last note of whining –
for me, suicide has never been a taboo,
especially when the tooth aches too.