Plight of the Poo

The public shite
The neighboring stall
Wingtips in site
Kerplump, a poop’s fall.

Belt buckle clinks against the shared wall
Heaving and grunting with all of his might
Struggling and demanding, to answer the call
Hands pound anything, continuing the fight

Explosive bursts, echo on my right
Whimpering, I think he will bawl
Silence, an end to his plight
I can tell, he’s given it his all

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