Mall Runs
When it hits you, you won't control
it
You'd better run, but don't you blow it
Try to squeeze, and you just might slow it
Now start to look, for some washroom signs
The ones they hide, at those desperate times
And you'd better pray, there are no lines
You're almost there, but what is this
You're leg is wet, but it's not piss
Pieces of peanuts, you just can't miss
Here it comes, like a dam that's split
Or a plug for a tub, that just won't fit
A thick watery grave, that's full of shit
So now you're there, but it's too late
This horrible thing, must be your fate
Designers of malls, are the ones to hate
They purposely build them, at the end of long halls
So no one can make it, when they feel natures calls
Someone should kick them, right square in the balls
Just make sure you go, before you visit the malls
This
original potty poem was written
and copyrighted© by Mick™
Non-Commercial use for this poetry
is allowed on washroom stalls
or with a link to this site only
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