Latter Day Poo

It's late in the day I know,
For this poo poem I bestow.
But when it comes, I must go
To the stall where it shall flow. 

Regularity it seems 
Is hard for me to find. 
I'm bursting at the seams
And waiting to be fined

For gassing out my neighbors 
From my poo-holding labors. 

Alas I must cry!
To the heavens and above,
To poo or to die, 
For liberty and love!
Poo.
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