In a quiet room, where dreams take flight,
A girl with pen and dreams so bright.
She longs to weave tales, her heart's delight,
Yet procrastination casts its shadow, a daunting fight.
In the morning light, her desk adorned,
With paper and ink, her passion sworn.
But the siren call of distraction is born,
And time slips away, like grains of corn.
Words dance in her mind, a poetic trance,
Yet deadlines loom, a looming chance.
Procrastination whispers, a deceitful dance,
As she hesitates, caught in its cold, dark expanse.
The clock ticks on, a relentless beat,
Yet the blank page remains, a daunting feat.
She battles the urge, with determined heat,
To conquer procrastination, her writing seat.
Through the night, she wrestles with time,
A symphony of thoughts, a rhythm and rhyme.
Procrastination retreats, a victory climb,
As words flow freely, like sweet, aged wine.
In the end, she conquers the procrastination tide,
Her stories unfold, on creativity's ride.
The girl who strived, with pen as her guide,
Becomes a writer, with passion as her pride.