Added to my regrettable poetry, this humbleoffering. My mother would have been 71 today, I sometimes find myself thinking on her birthday, that it isn’t fair she’s dead. I know, just look in a cemetery at all the young folks who croaked, but one can’t help how you feel sometimes.
Depending on who you ask, bruxism (that’s grinding your teeth) can be caused by stress, OCD, your jaws doing weird things, etc., so forth. This brings me to my first real post on my new blog, submitted to you by the muse of losing my nightguard -later found. I decided to post this to Poetry Potluck too!
Dammit, damn, and damnation!
Losing one’s nightguard is such an abomination!
You mean that invisible rent-a-cop the complex hired?
Yay! I finally have a post for my new blog! A charming little poem about losing my nightguard. If you wish to leave a comment or tell me you hate it, but prefer to leave the comment here, that’s cool too. Here’s the link to a garish hell: