My troubles

MY TROUBLES:

My troubles have grown,
I can't decide why,
My bowels move,
They make me cry.

Im on the toilet,
Almost day and night,
All day and night,
It's just not right.

I sit on that porcelin,
Pouring my soul,
The funk hits the fan,
My eyes turn cold.

I push and I push,
The trouble keeps comin,
I cant push no more,
This bathrooms an oven!

Some help might be nice,
Some medication may be in order,
Once ive taken it,
My troubles are just an odor!
Haha!!