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Pooetry

The Bittersweet

Monday mornings are bitter sweet, when there’s a massive deuce to excrete.

I’m not even an hour in, now I sit on the fecal bin.

A mushy slop hits the bottom, then a mighty stench that is quite rotten.

Upon my brow are beads of sweat, once a mighty deuce… now a triple threat.

Pure Pooetry

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