Surprisingly silent, a room filled with fear,
Faces turn slowly, glance as I draw near,
Nerves almost palpable, hands closely wrung,
Smiles tight, insincere, breath tight of lung.
Cheery the greeting from over the desk,
Forms to be filled, health worries confessed,
Palms moist, perspiring, try to grip pen,
Return to the counter to hand back again.
Seat now is chosen, in which I will wait,
Silence so deafening, awaiting our fate,
One leaves, one enters, they steadily stream,
It’s more of a nightmare and less of a dream.
My name is called out from across the dim room,
Sympathy smiles, as I head to my doom,
We all share the knowledge of what lies beyond,
It’s not something of which we will ever be fond.
The noise of the drill, it is certain to scare,
Patients at the mercy, but some do not care,
Tray filled with instruments, tortuous to,
The untrained among us, we do not know why.
Treatment completed, the nightmare is done,
It wasn’t that bad, the pain there was none,
Greater the fear as we sit in the chair,
Of the unknown for certain, the reason’s unclear.