A second poop in such quick succession.
The number two must be an obsession.

Nah, this is just a silly little hobby…
Writing rhymes about sloppy ploppy.

These doodoo themed poems are a dead giveaway.
Literary pieces about brown birthed clay.

Two days later I’ve done another double visit.
A two-fold delivery of sickly stink biscuit.

“It’s as if this number two has some special meaning!”
I exclaim as two more nuggets from my rear are leaving.

What’s the significance, some poofound equation?
Is it like sacred geometry, defining caca-creation?

Nope! There’s no poo-puzzles or rectal-riddles.
These pooems are all just for shits and giggles!