When I built my PTSD house 45 years ago
I installed a septic tank down below
A lot of poop has built up over the decades
Not all of it degrades
One day I thought I smelled something fishy
Went outside and the lawn was all squishy
Repair man said the tank had a crack
Would cost me a lot of jack
Decided to not repair it now
Would mask the smell somehow
City inspector said 'Codes are not being met'
I said 'Recent rain made the lawn that wet'
Soon the neighbors started to complain
Said I was contaminating the terrain
Later the toilet started to flow over
Because of all that poop out in the clover
Decided to use the toilet upstairs
To avoid those costly repairs
One day I came home and opened the front door
Got covered in poop from that damn war
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem