{reader submission} My bum, it runs

My bum it runs
often and often
there is no puns.
It just runs and runs and runs
some more, like a constantly
open door.

It makes me sad.
I must consider what
and which food,
can be had.
Pancakes for breakfast,
as special treat. Is in,
then out before the I finish the last.
My bum it runs and runs and runs
some more, like a constantly
open door.

Drugs I carry, but the runs
they do not tarry.
Did the toilet I marry?
Good toilet paper is vital,
with the cheap stuff,
you should not trifle.

My bum it runs and runs and runs
some more, like a constantly
open door.
Should I decline to attend
your event or occasion
please I do not intend
to offend.
My gut it dictates,
where, when and how
often I eat with mates.