My stomach it grumbles a request for food,
At the buffet I selflessly grant it its due.
Won-tons, chicken, and shrimp imitations,
Leave me with a feeling not unlike gestation.
And just when I know my belly is sated,
I realize the grumbling has not been abated.
To the toilet I hurry with a humorous gait,
To fulfill the duty of my primary state.
With bowels depleted and calories spent,
Again I hear the grumble that I can’t prevent.
Suddenly I see through divine intuition,
That man is a slave to his digestive system.
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