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Pooetry

Slopped To Poofection

A rancid concoction exits my bowel.
Upon it’s arrival the sewer beasts do howl.

It’s a sloppy one of extreme magnitude.
If only there was a way to avoid having poo’d.

If put into a sieve it’d still get through.
Severely lacking in viscousity was this poo.

And it had a horrendous quality like no other.
The kind you’d never tell your own mother.

The stench alone, I should have been put in jail.
The pipes are stained and has left a nasty trail.

I should be committed for crimes against humanity.
For this sloppy delivery has driven me to insanity.

Pure Pooetry

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