Lost Ink

In midnight light, moonlit sky,
the toilet screams, horrendous cry.
He says its unto the sink,
the toilet paper's death with ink.

He wiped him dead! He wiped him dead!
The toilet cried, he broke his head.
For ink stains Toilet, ink not red,
nor black, but brown, enough is said.

Though brown is seen by toilet grim,
this ink bears more, forms quite a team.
For when he left the toilet dying 'lone,
the ink then spread, showed more like bread.

Stripes of red along with worms,
like veins in muscles, this just germs.
They moved and wiggled left and right,
and ate the ink out all through the night.

Then green paste is now revealed,
full of color, ink now unveiled.
For fresh is this like baked green cake,
filled with nutrients non dare forsake.

And lastly yellow bits of cheese,
this what I saw, and it does please.
It smokes of freshness, bit by bit,
my tongue just needs it, every grit.

And so you see what it can be,
all main colors in it we'll see.
Then smiled wide, yes did toilet,
ate all ink for his enjoyment.

And so I too grabbed a plate,
took a spoonfull, this all I ate.
I felt so happy, joyous pride,
it seemed so Godly, oops I lied.