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Pooetry

Brown Dreams

I’ve had a sickly feeling all weekend.
A need to regurgitate from my rear end.

An unpleasant cloud like a rotten fog…
Lingers around like a steam from a bog.

Could it be the deadly Coronavirus?
Waiting to be expelled from my brown iris?

Or maybe something a little less severe?
Like a humble case of runny diarrhea?

Either way, I’m not at all thrilled.
Sooner or later these bowels will spill.

I do hope though that I’m close to a throne.
Because if I poop the bed I shall be disowned.

Pure Pooetry

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