rotten

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.

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