My Foe, Procrastination

In my quiet thoughts, my foe does dwell, A siren's call, her whispers swell, "Delay your tasks," she softly croons, My procrastination, beneath the moons. With tempting charms, she lures me near, Promising comfort, a fleeting cheer, Yet in her grasp, my time does fade, A dance of leisure, a masquerade. Oh, how I yearn for her to flee, Yet still I ponder, "Perhaps, not now, but maybe later."