Procrastinator’s Prayer

17 Oct

For life on pier,

through veins of blood,

I tire away on fields,

I pledge no more,

for I have sung,

on days of ire,

on through the sun.



I have no end,

but I will forget,

a name,

a plane,

or maybe a Dane.



For a procrastinator waits,

his worries aflame,

with no delight,

but he prays for fame.



In the joy he found,

on a day with rain,

he should have spent it,

on maybe some pain.



In the work he ignored,

in the worry he gave into,

in the rush he was given,

there was no day of gain.


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