Non rhyming post cleanse musings poem

This is the kind of wierd crap that goes through my head when I look at bread now....enjoy the mind of a spaz.

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Oh uniformed processed breads, in your identical plastic housing units....to you I say Bleh.

Wether it be in my cupboard or super market shelving, now when I see you, I feel compelled to fart in your general direction.

I may cave and eat you down the road.

But today I say.....patooey.

And so does my stomach.

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