For the longest time, I was ashamed of my own stools,

Whether at homes, in restaurants or my various schools,


Where “Girls Don’t Poo” was commonly said,

Like another hit song instilled in my head


But the wind blew, and something changed,

I looked down the loo, a part of me estranged.


What I realized was that I enjoyed expelling,

Thoughts on the white throne, were compelling,

The downside is, it’s an act foul smelling,

But with a smoky match, there is no telling.


“Woman, I, love to shit”, world, hear me roar.

No more tiptoeing on the hardwood floor,

Afraid of the squeak from the creaky door,

Sneaking around was truly uncalled for.