they claw at the inner sides of her artificial smile
her teeth are the first to decay, put on display
that pinkish mouth
full of an orcastra of 28 filthy tooth bones
her intricate assortment of teeth have concocted an unreal tooth throne
leaving a cesspool of blood under her raw tongue
an immemorable happiness vale
these teeth composing a uneasy melody
reflecting that of a replica smile
but never grinding the ripe silence of her soul
her teeth have rotted and they are sleepwalking down her throat