Honestly, I’ve never pooped in a sock…
But the opposite might get pipes blocked.

Before I sat down to take the morning crap…
My sock fell into the watery trap.

I planned to put them on while on the John.
My multitasking plan had gone all wrong.

And I was in too much of a busy hurry…
To save it from my impending slurry.

So I took the throne and begun to groan.
The clean sock will now be all alone.

While I sat pinching off this runny loaf.
I cursed myself for being such an oaf.

I considered fishing him from this fecal fate.
But the dookie had won this time, checkmate.

Though, as I flushed and left the room…
Were the pipes headed for certain doom?

No, it all flushed well like slimy grease.
So I whispered a prayer, rest in peace.

That poor sock is on a wet and wild course.
But it has the company of my brown sauce.