The white light

The text came, sharp, a quick reminder.

My jaw clenched. Not a choice.

This chair, it always felt like a binder,

muffling my internal voice.

'Open,' he says, a practiced tone.

And the light, a brutal, focused star,

blinds me. I'm no longer my own.

Just a mouth, a dark cavern, a scar.

The cold steel scrapes, a grinding sound.

My tongue retreats, a captive thing.

I lie there, tethered, to this ground,

awaiting what the drills will bring.