A stoma speaks
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Tomas the Stoma has composed a few lines on what it is like to live with Clare Mee
I woke up on a woman
She didn’t seem that pleased;
I caused her lots of problems
Especially when she sneezed.
I showed her my annoyance
That I was also taken from
The place that I was happy
Connected to her bum.
We decided on a truce from then
We would both do our part;
She would do the cleaning
And I would help her poo depart.
She cleans me very carefully
With different creams and sprays;
If she does it properly
My bag will last for days.
I can’t help being naughty though,
Especially when she sleeps;
I will fill the bag with lots of poop
And that is when it seeps.
She jumps up out of bed and shouts:
‘You’re such a bleep bleep bleep;
You have done this once too often
And disturbed my beauty sleep.’
I decided to be nice for once
And stopped my messy play;
I was very tired myself of course;
I’d had a busy day.
She eats things that turn runny
And things that can be red;
She eats things that are smelly
And wonders why I soil the bed.
There are times, though, that she likes me
When I act all sweet and cute
She will let me in the shower
In nothing but my birthday suit.
I relish in the freedom;
I love the clean fresh smell;
The foamy soft light bubbles
Make me poo and fart so well.
I know she doesn’t mind this,
As long as I keep it zipped;
When she steps outside the shower
I am meant to stay tight-lipped.
No pooping on the towel—
No pooping on the floor;
I’m to keep my side of the bargain
And not spray up the door.
Then she will keep me in the open
And let me play outside;
While she finishes her ablutions
I do not have to hide.
Just when she thinks she’s done it
And got me under some restrain,
I do what I do best of course,
And we fall out once again.
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