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Pooetry

The Meatiest Shit

Leaving me now is last night’s dinner.
It was a spectacular feast, a real winner.

Cooked to perfection, a meaty BBQ deluxe.
But I birth this poo and I exclaim “Oh shucks!”

It comes out hot, searing my delicate taint.
The steam rising out is enough to make me faint.

But I keep it together, and take a deep breath.
Only to inhale the stink of doodoo-death.

The aroma is so awful, it hardly resembles the meal.
If this stink was a law, I would protest for a repeal.

I grab the air freshener for a mid-shit spray.
It keeps the pungent poo temporarily at bay.

Oozing into the bowl, another chunk of man meat.
The stench returns and is far from discrete.

Such a dumping, I consider taking off the rest of the day.
But I man up and tell myself I’ll be okay.

I’ll be victorious and defeat this monster meat unloading.
Then another fist-sized mass announces a foreboding…

?

EPOOLOGUE

Somehow I made it, and I already feel much stronger.
The wretched hot feeling in my cheeks is with me no longer.

I’m able to painlessly walk easily, and proudly I strut away.
My rectum survived this meaty battle to shit another day.

Pure Pooetry

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