Still eating from the same pot
Now worn out in colour
Still suffering from the pressures
Of their broken jagged edges
The ailing wooden ladle
Continue to stir
Not to the brim
This filled pot with dish
Days to return my care
Have drawn nigh
I have borne
the pain for wisdom teeth
Which have not shown its self even now
With this urge to bite
Nature and custom to satisfy
When I open the cave of my mouth
Will they stay neglected
Seemingly abandoned?
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