One More Time

It’s been a long time

Since the words have flowed

Lamenting the climb

Of the maturity I’ve showed

To keeping my mind

From the poetry that owes

All its power that I find

From the bowels it blows

A poop of such kind

It rattles, bestows

The beauty of rhymes

And gifts to those

Who cringe and go blind

From the power of my flow.

Poo Poetry, not Prose.

Now again, here we go.

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