In a world of words and paper,
I set out to write, a daring caper.
A book so grand, a tale so wise,
But alas, my pen just sits and sighs.
Procrastination, my closest friend,
In its clutches, I descend.
The blank page mocks, with empty stare,
As I pretend I just don't care.
I'll start tomorrow, or the next,
For now, Netflix calls, what's next?
A hero's journey, a thrilling plot,
But my remote control's all I've got.
The characters wait, in limbo they roam,
In a literary purgatory, they find no home.
The deadline looms, a distant threat,
Yet here I am, a master of regret.
I sharpen pencils, organize my shelf,
Anything to avoid the daunting self.
The cursor blinks, a rhythmic taunt,
As my coffee cools, a bitter haunt.
I ponder life's mysteries, lost in thought,
The book remains unwritten, a tale uncaught.
But fear not, dear reader, for one fine day,
I'll sit down and write, come what may.
For now, the saga of my procrastination,
A tale of epic hesitation.
But in the end, the book will be penned,
Perhaps when my Netflix binge finally ends.
