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Christofle Bruce Mar 2014
I run to seclusion, where no one's around,
I would hate for someone to hear the sound.
A zip, a ruffle, kerplunk, and then splat,
The brown swim beneath, where so many have sat.

Slinks down like sausage that hasn't a case,
The brown conforms to this funnel-like space.
I pinch it off hurriedly, being in a rush,
Oh God, what now! The toilet won't flush.

Water is rising o'er the precipice,
I haven't the time nor the courage for this.
I'm out the door quickly, deflecting this gaffe,
My deepest apologies, custodial staff.
316 · Mar 2014
Who II
Christofle Bruce Mar 2014
Hooray, Yippee! It's us you see!
We are who we are, who else could we be?
270 · Mar 2014
Who I
Christofle Bruce Mar 2014
The depths to which we often go,
Secrets no one can ever know,
My past, something for me alone,
So let me be, all hope is lost.

— The End —