Underpants 3 Poem by Phil Soar

A fleeting glance, of underpants
As they spin around the drum
Skid marks and some staining
All left there from my bum
Not the prettiest of sights
As they move around at speed
Identifying that my plight
Is brought about by feed
My appetite is gruesome
I eat a lot of Pies
I wish that I could lose them
As they determine my size
When I remove my underpants
I don't know what I'll find
As there is quite some nasty stuff
That escapes from my insides