In this cubicle that I’ve locked myself in.
Barricaded away, I wear a big grin.

All cos I’m brewing up a volatile steamer.
When it goes off, they’ll need the cleaner.

I’ll leave the time-bomb of poo right here.
Then sneak out and I’ll be in the clear.

Some poor sap will set off what I’ve amassed.
They’ll casually walk in, then off goes the blast!

I’ll leave the door ajar so it looks unoccupied.
A sucker will walk in and go for a nasty ride.

Unbeknown I’ve declared a fecal war feud.
Triggering the terrorist toilet, it’s now occupooed.

Pure Pooetry

No comments

You can be the first one to leave a comment.

Leave a Reply