Ballad of a Procrastinator
Location
Wandering to and fro trying to find
some legitimate reason to avert my eyes
from the holy grail, the essential key
that will lead to a future of eternal ecstasy.
I grovel. I squirm. I ceaselessly burn with a covert
hunger enshrouded with germs.
Germs that sicken,
Germs that roast,
Germs that show symptoms that
hit right at home
Yet time is short and no one has complied
with my screams for relief
and just a little more time.
I have always been a good student.
Quite studious.
So astute.
In the realms of mathematics,
literature,
and theoretical things.
Yet no book or problem has prepared me,
for this incredible brandishing of emotional needs.
The presence of doubt.
The crushing fear.
Or quite simply the teeter-tottering
emotions of being revered.
This puzzlingly daunting need to waste
such succulent knowledge I have yet to taste
while droves of student mentally climb
I unconsciously, cowardly waste my time.
this poem is testament to my wasteful ways
each night my mind wanders through a hazy daze
in times quite pressing and short of time
I continuously, intelligently
WASTE. MY. TIME