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Pooetry

Poo-F-C

I ate a Four and Twenty meat pie.
It produced gore from my brown eye.

Shortly after the pie was consumed…
I could feel the cramping of utter doom.

“This isn’t right”, I thought to myself.
The pie was on the ‘ready to eat’ shelf.

The pain grew strong so off I went…
To flush away all the money I’d spent.

But what was causing this major issue?
Had it expired, or practicing Poo-Jitsu?

So I entered the shiny porcelain cage.
Locked eyes and engaged inner fecal rage.

He was enormous in stature with Butterbean-like girth.
For me to gain the victory I thought, “How on Earth?”

Then I heard the bell and the fight was on.
I had to hit this brute in his chunky mel-on.

I landed a ferocious blow that could kill ya.
Victorious, they announced my name… Turdelay Silva.

Pure Pooetry

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