If you've ever had the chance to message me,
You'll realise at times I'll use the word ****.
Its nonsensical in a way but for me it meant more.
**** was the first word I can recall my late father saying.
**** was the word that brought laughter when I was sad.
**** still remains to have nostalgic value to me.
**** reminds me of the times when I pooped my pants,
And had people help me clean myself up.
In a way that **** and pants story reflects moments,
Moments in my life in which I became a horrid mess.
**** isn't just ****,
For when I die I don't want people being sad,
Or even uttering 'oh ****!'
I want them to say 'oh ****!',
For then and only then would I know that,
I truly lived.

The **** monster was a friendly one
He'd love to lay on the roads under the summer sun
He'd love following in the footsteps of those who run
But he for one never felt useful to anyone at all
So he decided one day to rescue people at a single call.

The **** monster slowly exceeded his name
Became the **** hero
But still had people criticise his methods
Saying "your ways stink"
Or the even more rotten responses
"You disgust our city "...

But he kept a high head and decided to spread cheer
For when you love something
You will give it all you have
And the **** hero really loved the city.