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Pooetry

Water Logged

Foul is the smell as I take the throne.
A dark deed this day it shall be known.

My anus roars as the sound of thunder.
This unholy bowl shall be torn asunder.

The caffeine has totally destroyed my liver.
As this cascade flows from me like a river.

I flush vigorously one, two, three.
But nothing will move the water logged tree.

I turn and run in fear of anyone knowing.
The toilet blocked and now overflowing.

By Guest Pooet, Fecal Jam.

Pure Pooetry

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