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Pooetry

The Pooper’s Groove

The trumpet sounds as I plant my cheeks,
and my snake like deuce begins to peek.

But wait it’s stubborn and refusing to move,
poohaps I’ll break out The Pooper’s Grove.

I shake my coight from side to side,
and hope to blast debris from my hide.

But nope, nothing. I pass more gas.
I guess this poop is stuck in my ass.

I push and push til my face turns red,
oh, how I wish I was still in bed.

It’s like it’s moving back up the trail,
I need this deuce out… I cannot fail.

With a heave and a hoe, I give a mighty push,
success has come in the form of moosh.

Pure Pooetry

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