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Mornings, Pooetry

The Morning After

I awoke suddenly on the throne…
To the sound of my butt’s moan.

I’d fallen asleep trying to poop.
But stuck like cement was the goop.

Now it’s morning and I feel the rumble.
The onset of laying a crapple crumble.

It had all night to bake and stew.
And finally here comes the poo!

Unceremoniously, out slips the slop.
Into the water it does a belly flop.

Disappoointed, I asked “Is that it?”
What a let down this lame ass shit.

It had such hope, pootential and poomise.
Instead, a soggy substance much like hummus.

Pure Pooetry

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