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Pooetry

Fade To Scat

Turds they seem to float away.
Whether solid or only spray.

Lots of TP on the shelf.
Is most important nothing else.

Every throne is like siv.
Filtering all the turds I give.

And sometimes there’s more I see.
In the bowl staring back at me.

Some turds are not what they used to be.
Lacking girth and they aren’t shiny.

Feacly lost this can’t be real.
I wait for logs but get a peel.

Unpleasant turds are filling me.
They must eject so I am free.

My ass will grumble til the morn.
Then a colonic until it’s gone.

Nothing but a bog can save me now but it’s too late.
When that pipe goes up my ass I know that I will cry.

Yesterday seems like my turds were all twisted.
The colonic is warm and now there’s a tear in eye.

Goodbye.

Pure Pooetry

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