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Pooetry

The Pooman Cometh

The lie some tell to placate oneself.
Pipedream of belonging, love, or of wealth.
Won’t be pushed out by others’ kind words.
Nuggets of wisdom will be heard as turds.

When the great plunger of time comes for you.
Your delusion will be shed like squirting poo.
The unflushable truth cannot be undone.
By desperately holding down the button.

Either fart out your lies until you’re sore.
Or acknowledge the kernels at your core.
When The Pooman cometh where will you sit?
In the clean gutter or on a throne of shit?

Pooem by Guest Pooet, The Poorophet

Pure Pooetry

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