Oh what feeble thought it is for me
To think that air and weight could be so free.

Yet in this push of the unknown air I hope and pray that it is just air.
I push with weight of massive force. Feeling the warmth and comfort air.

But yet

Do I dare to know this air?
Do I grasp the trust of this darken unknown?
Do I freely let the air be free?
For though I think that it is safe?
I for once have known the taste of false release.

Dread of thought that change would need.
I hope the push is just freedom for me.

Yet dreams of old despair my thought.
Yet I say to myself I am young and my Colon is safe.

I push with hopes of freedoms grasp.
Wishing that there would be no dread to change in near future sight.

At last I risk it hoping no one knows. Though the thought darkens my dread.
At last I try it in releasing air.

Oh! Thank God it was not too loud.
Oh! Thank God it was not wet.
For this fart of freedom is truly a safe freedom.

Yet no one heard or saw me move.
So I at once was not to blame for the smelt it issue of who dealt it.
Now oh now it is safe.

But what of the next dread to come?
Maybe a minute from now or maybe months from now.
But that wetness will be my fear. For these farts are scary still.