An Epistle to a Pathological Creep

He'd explain to you but it would take too long Why he is right and everybody else is wrong He'd endeavor friend to make your mind correct He'd try but he thinks it would take too long too long It's probably simple math That keeps him on his elevated path While talking to him it is very rare To sense that he's acknowledging you're even there Or else he'll speak as if you should be taking notes But fears that you might steal one of his brilliant quotes There's no idea that you could add That he wouldn't claim to have already had He used to be a really decent guy Before his insecurities enslaved him Now his ego seems to be raging uncontrollably Destroying every friendship that he's ever had I don't even like to think about him, it's so very sad Only a boy of three would dare act so egregiously Now the kind of places he's most often found Are rife with pedants running topics into the ground And the company that he is known to keep Are all self important bores that put you right to sleep Yes I'd rather be hung Than hear them discussing Carl Jung He used to be a really decent guy Before his insecurities enslaved him Now his ego seems to be raging uncontrollably Destroying every friendship that he's ever had I don't even want to think about him, it's so very sad