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Pooetry

The Dry Wipe

You’ve sat long and hard.
But did you expel any lard?
Force of habit, you’re unsure.
If there was any real downpour.
Though you’ve put in hard yards.

And now it’s time for you to wipe.
But it’s a let down, all just hype.
Against your butthole, it’s gruff.
The feeling was much too rough.
And the paper is free of tripe.

You’ll be second guessing your butt.
Did you really lay a chocolate donut?
Cos the paper felt far too coarse.
Yet you pushed out with strong force.
This ghost goop has you in a rut.

Pure Pooetry

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