Oh, you thought it was going to be subtle,

The poem about human teeth,

You probably expected a rhyme here,

Too,

But you are mistaken.

There’s little to no structure to this poem—

Much like the human mouth,

That’s been broken open,

Shattered,

And the little chunk of it’s sharp,

Shrapnel,

Embedded into the roof of some poor souls’ mouth,

Where it will cause copious bleeding,

And the eventually rotting,

And undoing,

Of the function of that area,

As the green pus leaks,

And fills up the cheeks,

And drowns someone in the rancid,

Putrid,

Pus,

That is the inside of a human being,

And spills it all over the human gums.

—

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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