
The sap you’ll bleed will tell the tale;
we all know the drill.
The shock of the first prying probe,
the initial cut,
slices through more than skin.
But it’s the continual pounding,
the interminable perforation,
the ongoing flurry of jaw-jolting blows
that will have you screaming Uncle.
Just when you feel that the hammer has hit your heart
and defeat is inevitable,
the bird finds its worm,
and the real pest is revealed.
The blood you’ll cry
will cauterise the hole;
only the scab will
testify to your
cut
when you find the sky
with outstretched arms…
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