This little rhyme is, fortunately, fiction--prompted by the Poets & Storytellers United suggestion to write a poem containing the words "blooms," "hammer," and "teeth."
Shed not a tear for Hackell Keith,
Who's somewhere in this slammer
For knocking all his brother's teeth
Out with a ball-peen hammer.
The twelve-year-old deserves these blooms.
For the teen, a life sentence looms.
But if you ask how Hackell thought
Of such a crime, so horrid,
His story is: his brother, brought
To tears and sweat on forehead
By an impacted molar, begged
That his bad, crooked teeth be pegged.
"For if I have no teeth at all,"
The younger brother pleaded,
"Some nice, straight implants then may fall
In the category 'Needed.'"
Hackell considered this, and struck.
So now--he blames it on bad luck--
Though Bobby Keith will get nice teeth,
The public's wrath has fallen
Upon the head of Hackell Keith,
For what the judge is calling
Insurance fraud with ill intent.
Sighs Hackell, "That's not what we meant."
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