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Pooetry

The Absurdity of Verse

It’s a lovely day for a bog outdoors.
While I dump I scream for more.
Though, these actions I do deplore.

So now I have gone a fishin’.
It’s tricky with anal fissure.
To catch a prize poo, is my mission.

Suddenly I spy the brown trout.
Seeing it’s lumpy hide I do pout.
To seize it I ready my rectal spout.

It’s texture is awfully slippery and sticky.
The occasional corn makes it prickly.
I’ve mistaken it for for a shit brickie.

Pure Pooetry

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