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Pooetry

Churned Within

A thunderous bog churned within, I held on with all my strength but it began to grow thin.

Surely I wouldn’t void my guts, in my pants like a fecal putz.

But the bite grew stronger and had me worried, I made my way to the throne before I slurried.

I made it safely without a moment to lose, and filled the bowl with thunderous poos.

This has been a pooem by Papa Poosepi.

Pure Pooetry

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