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Pooetry

Tomb of The Pootilated

There’s something inside of me.
Better guess again, it’s not pee.

Here it is, it’s, it’s coming out.
Let loose, scream and shout.

Through my anatomy dwells the fecal.
Violent way of life, not at all peaceful.

Ready to burst, a load of my stool.
Gushing deuce, leaking to a pool.

Witness the horror, birthing fudge babies.
Splitting from the cheeks sloppy gravies.

Sickening vulgar expooriments.
Mutilating the brown evidence.

Post-shart psychosis, corn massacre within.
Rectum warriors shall never have been.

Pure Pooetry

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