Poem on the toilet...

The air once quiet, fills,
With the shallow breaths,
of men in white cubicles.

Reading the paper,
Taking the trouble,
To fight the dreaded anal cheek shuffle.

The waste coming out,
Trundling along,
Without a shout,
It sings no song.

The men continue the squeeze,
Their bottoms silenced,
Just as their persona?
Frightened of the slightest misnomer...

The battle weary tire,
The doors begin to yield,
And with a terrible shout,
Faeces strikes the watery field!

Oh what a game!
why do they do it?
Who can hide truly,
that they blew it?

Why do they hide that pleasure within?
Oh please Let it out...
Better out than in!