Piles And Appendix

Your butt makes you feel as ever so vile

From them chicks to those damn hemorrhoidal piles

Every push you’ve ever done

Every groan you’ve ever moaned

Each and every itch you’ve ever scratched

The shame that maims you is unmatched

Blame that freeloader, your appendix

Who, never sleeps, is always up before six

You’d think they fight for you too

But what does the crap crack do?

It feels like, in one word—lots

But, the truth is not in the thoughts

Your piles is like an unkempt garden of choice

That always raises its shaming voice

To scream the bane of your state of poise

For your sleep to chase those miles of white noise