The Freedom Song of the Jigsaw Girl

This poem was spurred into being yesterday evening when I got home from dinner. My water had gone out (again, and is now fixed, again, hopefully will stay that way), so I went into the village for dinner at the local tavern. I've been eating there pretty regularly since I started Lyme treatment and most of them are used to my meat and veggie only orders. My waitress wasn't one I'd had that often (though she was very sweet and as attentive as she could be considering they were slammed and only had one server working). She kindly asked if I wanted desert (which is her job after all), and I said "No thank, I'm not allowed sweets." Her response was "well at least it will save your teeth." I made the non-committal, "yeah, I suppose" sort of nod and headed home. This then insisted on being written. It came out much longer than I expected. Not entirely sure if I like it or not, it's a bit more poetry slam style than I tend to write (or at least feels that way to me). Constructive criticism is welcome.

( trigger warning: dental issues abound, might want to skip this if you are dentist phobic )