Why me?

Why does it have to be me?
I got all the bad traits.
Curse you heredity.
Now I have to have things stuck in my mouth.
Drills, Pointy-things, Sharp Pointy-things.
I don’t even know what they are called.
I just wish that I could be normal.
If I was, I wouldn’t have had to get a root canal.
…And then a year later, find out that
IT’S DEFFECTIVE!
Now, I have to get a freakin’ crown.
A crown!
And I am how old. Well, I am not going to tell you that.
But I am way too young to be put through this torture.
It’s always me. Me and my bad genes.

Poem by ttextterr

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