Doctor's Lair

I waited for my number

In the clinic.

Mum had taken me

Because I was sick.

There were large black bottles,

Wanted to follow me.

The stench of medicines

Were spine-tingling.

The evil assistant said

It was my turn now.

I followed behind my mother,

Sure she gave a growl.

The doctor anticipated me,

Used the snake around his neck,

And put its cold head on my chest

To beat the sickness off my back.

But I was scared

He might use the needle,

To tear my heart

That was already so brittle.

As I cowered into my mother

The doctor spoke to me.

He said I don’t need any injections,

Just a few bitter medicines.

As I walk out of the clinic,

I welcome the fresh air.

I immediately felt better,

After exiting the Doctor’s lair.