My Teeth

As the world had closed up I stared into my mouth, mirrored forth.
I saw the world opening amongst broken, yellow pearls.
Paths revealed themselves in front of me, some south, some north.
Unfamiliar and not a crossroads, as such, my hazy vision swirled.

The glass holding my toothbrush smashed on the floor.
A reverberation of the crash seemed to last forever.
I looked down. Red blood at my feet. A hole opened up to the door.
Once imprisoned. Now an escape route of falling and landing never.

Is this flight? Surely not fight. More likely fright.
I felt trapped, caught, constrained in this emotional hell.
Beyond repair, hoping for a fix, another episode at the dentist might.
I used a brush to sweep up the shards. In guilt, shame and fear I dwell.