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Pooetry

The Evening Bog

Ahhh, the glorious evening bog.
After putting in a hard day’s slog.

You’ve retired for the day.
Now the poo must give way.

You’re home and seated on your throne.
You’re the king of your own tailbone.

This might be your first dump of the day.
All this time you held the brown at bay.

Or it might even be dump number two.
Either way you’ve got a job to do.

Well, it’s not really a job, it’s more a ritual.
To help you relax, pooping becomes habitual.

You give the order, you give the word.
Brown eye opens and exudes the turd.

A wipe and flush, now you’re done and dusted.
Put pants back on or the family will be disgusted.

Pure Pooetry

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