Fecal Street

My cheeks were planted like a tree, But instead of pooing I began to pee.

This was truly an awkward situation, I wasn’t prepared for any constipation.

I gently rocked back and forth, hoping my deuce would move south not north.

I could feel the log begin to move, it started slowly then found it’s groove.

It powerfully shot into the bowl, oddly resembling a sausage roll.

But there was no pastry only meat, so I’ll send this log to fecal street.

Pure Pooetry

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