A random pile of snacks,
Three Red Bulls on hand,
You pull out all your notes and books
And take a swig from one of the cans.

You boot up Word XP
As the clock hits 9:03.
You only got eight hours to
Do this paper for history.

Sure, you had a week to finish,
But you had things to do.
‘Sides, this’ll be a cinch,
All you need is a thesis.

The night wades on
And time runs short
For you to finish this report.
Can by can, line by line,
You furiously try to refine
Whatever rushes to mind.

All in all, it took ‘til 3:00,
And it finally paid off.
You got some random drivel down,
Definitely at least a B.

Done with the terrible task,
You can rest your head.
Smugly you rise from your desk
And lurch over to your bed.
Now you can catch some Z’s.

…Wait, what about that big test in Chemistry?




I thought I'd do something not depressing this time. This is what happens when I write poetry while listening to the Dead Kennedys. >_>