such vast confusion follows in his wake
regarding twitchy movements that he makes

and when Cauterodactyl shoots a glance
poor Darshna sighs and knows she has no chance

a bristling mustache, bow tie ’round his neck,
in paisley and mismatched shoes bedecked

your essays, says he, unspecific, vague!
horrendous grammar, that shit’s strangely phrased

your prose is technically competent, yet,
on passing scores this May I wouldn’t bet

and furthermore, he quoth disgruntledly
quit writing satirical poetry about me srsly its getting annoying