The Procrastinator Blues

I force my hand onto a piece of paper
Strain to create
Feel a failure and mope all day
Then by grace I dig up treasures
Piled under assorted stacks of duty
That I have put off
Sometimes I feel a spark
When I breathe some air on these coals
Sometimes they are cold and hard
Like diamonds
Just pretty little rocks
So much work left to reveal the sparkle
I cut
Facet after facet
Too many things left undone

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