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Pooetry

The Monday Glory

The stink of my deuce filled the air, I didn’t mind nor did I care.

It’s Monday you see, an agonising day, what better way to start it than a rectal spray.

Warm brown slurry piling up in a heap, a stench so powerful you’ll surely weep.

This once white throne has been ruined forever, completely desecrated by a man named Trevor.

Pure Pooetry

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