In the realm of midnight's glow,
A tale of haste and woe,
An essay long due to write,
Begins its journey into the night.
Pen poised, thoughts amiss,
The deadline looms, relentless kiss,
Words dance upon the empty page,
A symphony of procrastinator's stage.
Clock ticks, time slipping away,
Procrastination's tempting sway,
Through trials of drowsy eyes,
Ideas flicker, the mind complies.
Sentences crafted in hurried rhymes,
Thoughts struggling to align,
Battles waged 'gainst fleeting dreams,
As sleep beckons, or so it seems.
Midnight oil, a flickering flame,
Guiding the writer's desperate claim,
To meet the dawn's encroaching light,
With an essay born in depths of night.
Yet within this chaotic fray,
Creativity finds its way,
As moments blend, the ink does flow,
Transforming doubts into a glow.
A masterpiece born from the late,
A testament to the hands that fate,
With dawn's embrace, the work complete,
Late essay, victory bittersweet.
Late essay indeed? Indeed if it was, but definitely a win for the community.
My Late Essay.
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