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Pooetry

Rancid Fruit

Squeezing out a rancid fruit.
Into the water it does poot.
And with a flush off it scoots.

Gone sailed to lands far away.
Thankfully the stains did not stay.
Porcelain gleams, I like it that way.

But the smell lingers like a pest.
A scent my nostrils do detest.
Caused by the food I did digest.

Pure Pooetry

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