Cookies and Cream

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.

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