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Pooetry

Butt Floss

All day I felt something was not quite right.
It was between my cheeks, but it wasn’t shite.

I felt an unusual tingling, a weird sensation.
It made my crack do an odd gyration.

I went to the loo to perform my doodoo duties.
While there I inspected my pristine booties.

All was fine, not a foreign object was found.
And thankfully there was no little brown mound.

But tucked away and hidden from my sight.
Something hid while my fecal gave flight.

And somehow it survived the wiping process.
It hugged my crack with a very creepy caress.

It was the devious butt floss, a long strand of hair.
How it got in my crack, I don’t even care.

But there it lingered, slicing my expelling nuggets.
Clefting them in twain as southward they did plummet.

When I finally found the sneaky shit strand…
Prying it free was something I had not planned.

I pulled and then I stopped with a sudden chill.
It rose up my crack and made me feel quite ill.

It gave my butt a right flossing as I slowly extracted.
A spine-chilling feeling, never to be reenacted.

Pure Pooetry

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