My teeth  have played the nail clipper.
Chattering, clattering, jittering away
At the painful prick of a hangnail
That I received earlier today.

My starboard thumb and pointer
Have been pinching as if pliers,
Yet the hangnail keeps on hanging
Like desperate men to their desires.

Blunt force has dealt to damage,
So now I nibble and kiss with a tender suck
To the keratin clinging splinter
That to the tip of my finer is stuck.

I run the finger along my inside-lipline
In the moist-warm trenchfront of my gum,
Attempts to loosen up this hangnail,
Perhaps – in time – it will come.

Alas, for now, ’tis my dismay
I am quite hindered in my typing.
In other words, one could say
(So could I, if I’d stop my griping)
That I wish not to write more
As I’d hate to blabber on or linger,
For my jaw and teeth are both rather sore,
Just like my left ring finger.

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