The Procrastinator

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My mind runs fast, my heart does skip a beat;
Books lie in front while I use my damn phone.
They yearn to be read, and I feel the heat;
I grasp right then there’s something not yet known.

I drag my feet, I make excuses then;
But no, I don’t flip through the pages creased.
Oh, mind mine goes astray there once again;
I down a glass of wine, my thoughts are ceased.

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You look at me with what I call a smirk,
And your thoughts are kept hidden from my soul.
These are the thoughts that deep within just lurk.
Is there a thing that might just make them whole?

Your actions matter, pass by thoughts, you see;
The time is ripe for you now to hurry.

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