Wisdom teeth- you're out.
Sneaking four, about to commit a heist- no doubt!
Fuzzy and tingly- then darkness consumed the high.
Awoke, the sting of absence felt.
I've taken my drugs- cried and iced.
I caught ya. Wisdom teeth.
I will plead for sleep.
Gone now, but if I ever lose my molars?
How wicked would that be?
My wisdoms couldn't aid me!
I'll accept the philosophy of Candide.
For "all is for the best" arguably,
In "the best of all possibly worlds" supposedly.