Poem of about procrastination and luck. Was suppose to be a sonnet.

I feel for you when you have nothing to do with yourself.

About a husband who just wants to sit around and procrastinate.

Do you procrastinate when it comes time to get things accomplished? Or, are you just a slothful human being?

I really hate procrastinators, waiting all the time…

Everybody feels pain sometime in their life. There is no need to procrastinate it.

A poem about patience and procrastination.

Laziness catches everybody at the worst of times… or does it create them?