Poop Face tells me to take it easy.
Poop Face wants me to chill.
Poop Face makes many requests of me
that vary in tone – but not frequency.
Poor Face commands, like royalty.

Poop Face orders.
Poop Face demands.
Poor Face insists we do the can can.
“I can’t!” I say.
“Please stop,” I pray.
Poop Face continues, and gets her own way.

Poop Face. Poop Face. Poop Face, Poo.
I say she is quite wretched; boo!
Boo to you, you Poop Face, you!

Thanks.