My teeth hurt,
I think they might fall out.
And my gums feel raw –
red, raw and rotten.
And I’m afraid I’ll spit out my teeth on the floor
in a puddle of red blood and tears.
So I’ll hold them in by holding my mouth shut.
And you won’t hear me cry about it anymore.
Even now, as I chew my lips,
I feel them unearthing.
I’ll bite down on them
while I still can.
But I guess when my teeth are gone
I can’t bite down on your arms when you touch me
because your touch is poison
and I guess it was your poison that did this to me.