finn

real men don’t poop.

pooping is for the weak,

a sign of vulnerability,

a moment so bleak.

we need never to release,

we control our bodies, every piece.

We store it deep, like a vault of steel,

as if it is not real.

they may laugh, they may mock,

they don’t understand the power of the block.

real men hold it in

just like Finn.

nature calls, we close the door,

real men never leave the floor.

take a seat, crouch in shame

they lose, I win the game.