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Pooetry

Beware The Trapdoor

The pressure is building, the time is right.
Once I open this, you won’t believe the sight.

No way I could contain this much longer.
The rancid fluids growing stronger and stronger.

So open it I did, the trapdoor sprung wide.
Flooding out came a tsunami from my hide.

It was warm and unpleasant, and totally vile.
Where else could I put this never-ending poo pile?

And so the torrent did blast, wave after wave.
For a solid few seconds I was it’s fecal slave.

So beware that trapdoor and what lurks beyond.
The liquid waste that lies in wait is a hellish fecal pond.

Pure Pooetry

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