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False Alarm
To say that
my bark
is worse than my bite
is an understatement.
My bark is
a harsh thing
a ripped thing
a burning thing
in the back of my throat.
It is the way
I warn you away,
my very own
rattlesnake
coiled beneath my tongue.
But when
(if)
I bite,
know that my
fangs
tear into my own tongue
with far more
venom
than the gentle press
of my
teeth
against your skin.
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