Late night snacks, fill me with fear
A feeling of dread, so very queer.
Will the morning hold, a burst or a plug
Will it linger in the shadows like some two-bit thug?
Will it demand extraction during a meal?
Will it declare itself loudly like a thunderous peal?
This is the problem of eating so late
The uncertainty it bears on my pooping fate.
But, like, 22 Oreos and 2 glasses of milk
Surprisingly came out, smooth as silk.
So this time was fine, but still I worry
That the next midnight snack ends in fury.