Hosea he can’t pee.
He needs prostate surgery.
Though he really has to go
He just can’t commence the flow.
Though his triumph is rare
And much pain he must bear
He sits on his throne all night
And struggles until daylight.
A new hole the pressure bore
But then he passed out on the floor.
Martin cannot urinate.
They blame his faulty prostate.
He thinks he sees the toilet fill;
Then reaches for his pills.
Doubled over in his strife
The searing cuts much like a knife.
And as the daylight cracks
So does his urinary tract
The porcelain god is pacified
Though many tears were cried.
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