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Pooetry

The Anticipootion

My sphincter thumped in anticipootion, so running to the loo was my only solution.

Fearing a slip I clenched my cheeks, with each stride I heard a squeak.

Time was of the essence but the toilet far away, having an accident I thought no way.

I increased my pace and the squeaks grew louder, I needed a bowl for my brown chowder.

Then in the distance the porcelain did shine, I began to sprint to reach it in time.

Then with one great leap my cheeks were home, I was safe and sound upon the throne.

Pure Pooetry

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