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Procrastination: The death of meNeither joy nor pain bring me satisfaction,
I drown in a pool of procrastination,
Every task an illustrious feat,
Unable to move; to breathe,
Stuck in a time when life was easy,
Whereas mere thoughts now make me queasy.
And so I sit,
When reality calls,
With chains and spurs.
Alive, But Not LivingI run my hand,
Over the ink you etched,
In an attempt to understand,
To help, to catch
A glimpse of my mind,
So scattered and frail,
Yet no one can know,
What it is like
To be me, alive
But not living.
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