Who knows not the thief of time?
He's that fiend who slyly steals
And thrives upon suspended dreams,
Upon the things we could have done
Or could have seen or had or been,
Upon our unaccomplished aims
And our hibernating schemes,
Who dwells within us unobserved,
Depleting us of animation.
Who knows not Procrastination?
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I like this poem, remember what Mason Cooley said, 'Life is used up all the same, whether we save, spend, or waste it.'