The Dawdler Pyre
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Intentions fall akin to ashes on the pyre.
Of our procrastination quixotic fire
We've got a penchant for delay and distraction.
A puerile fear of routine and reaction.
But in our deepest hearts, we glow.
Time is a precious commodity to sow.
But we still apply it to just toss it away.
Thinking that tomorrow will start a fresh day
We piddle with excuses and justify.
Our lack of progress and letting scope pass us by
But the truth is, we're only cheating ourselves.
By neglecting our dreams and putting them on shelves
So let us rise from the ashes of our pyre.
And ignite a fresh flame of desire.
Let's attempt to alter our current reality.
And will cease to be hindered by frugality.
Life is too precious to waste away.
On diddle misguided play
Let us grapple with the day and bear it count.
If you live decently, the strain won't mount.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2023
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