The paper’s due date, tomorrow, hurts his head           

Writers’ block at midnight, he thinks i'm no Mark Twain

Homework is dumb he says, I wants to got to bed

Still awake, now its one, he is numb in the brain

The ten spelling errors will make the teacher jeer

Another fail, he will work at a  fast food chain

Pushing through until two, mental collapse is near

He has no clue on what he is writing about

He has read zero pages in this book all year

Like a zombie at three, finishing is a doubt                       

Fatigue, annoyance, surrender fill full his eyes

Fed up with word not responding he wants to shout

Now Four, morning will be impossible to rise

Surely the worst night of his life it has been

The final product is of very little size

Living dead, he reluctantly turns it in                            

Sweetheart, thats due tomorrow she says with a grin