It's ******* 3 in the ****** morning,
a twisted mind trying to write,
the most flawed paper known to man.

While the well established sleep,
so somberly on their egyptian silk sheets.

I want to rip these sleeper's vocal chords out,
so that in the morning,
only my voice will be heard.

In this perfect ******* paper,
with it's perfect ******* footnotes
and its not so perfect creator,
hopped up on caffeine,
ready to be the perfect ******* innovator,
of another person's ****** ideas.