Procrastination

I kept saying, "Just a second."
"Just a moment."
"Hang on."
But my moments turned to hours
and soon the years were gone.
And I sat where I started, gathering dust.
I was decaying in my own flesh,
bones melting and skin peeling in the gentlest gusts,
while outside the tomb I had built of petrified time,
all I knew and once had hope for me
are adding on a new wing to their success.
And what have I got to show? Nothing.
But my rotting dreams and stale talents that
I never polished, bothered to shine.
Never embraced my soul, never nurtured my ambitions.
The smiling eyes and chests filling with laughter
leave a burn in my throat, a gash in my aching stomach.
I shut down, deadline passed.