Splinter

Beacon of the flesh

Twiddle Dee in Tweedle Thumb

Sharp, Solid but Chartreuse

Pry it out with baby teeth

Lest its imbedded to the bone

Bloody like a V8 and Vodka

Mary cannot lick this wound

Hit it on a door jam later

Wince and take his name in vain

If it's scarred tomorrow perhaps you'll realize

That little bastard is still in there somewhere.