by Shannon Peil
I can hold a conversation
without moving my upper lip.
I can smile with my eyes
and I can look away
to laugh. I can read
psych papers
about why
people have nightmares
where
their teeth fall out.
I can have my own nightmares
where I accidentally
smile in public.
I can nod
awkwardly
when pretty girls say hi.
I can feel
my rot eating me
from the inside out.
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