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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#30871voted by our readers
By Anonymous
I come to thee again my old friend To evacuate my bowels, and clear my rear end Upon you I sit, my porcelain throne My gift to you, my feces, you shall own. I feel protected i...
I come to thee again my old friend To evacuate my bowels, and clear my rear end Upon you I sit, my porcelain throne My gift to you, my feces, you shall own. I feel protected i...