R.I.P. Rest in Poop

A despicable porcelain left to rot.
Still filled with a stinking brown grot.
The flusher broken, long in disrepair.
Left to decay, and no one even cares.
A toilet tomb, a cemetery plot.

The stink of decades-old baked bean.
And the colours of old brown and green.
Visitors come to poop their respects.
But do not leave a flower of defect.
Long gone is the toilet it had once been.

Pure Pooetry

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