I've got a splinter
right under my tongue
i'll tear apart my mouth
just to get it out
and after its out
i have the remains
the cuts the blood the pains
and the ugly aftermath
of scabs and scars and bruises
my whole mouth just becomes
inflamed
no one can feel it but me
and no one can see it
the miniscule figure of a tiny splinter
surrounded by spit and tissue
because when looking
you find the new fascinations of the mouth
and get distracted with the new observations
no one knows anymore but me
no one knows anymore but I
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