Procrastination is a Demon

It’s a demon

It’s a devil

It’s a fallen angel

Begging me to fall

They will catch me if I trust them

Holding out their hand in innocent temptation

While their black wings they keep hidden

The price to pay, for such a decision

Their dark whispers are a gentle caress

Not like the bitter barbs, I know others endure

They are not the goblins sitting on shoulders

Flaying flesh from bone

They are a charming, secret visitor

Beckoning me, to accompany them home

Lulling, heated promises of it will be fun

Opening a portal of possibilities

No word if I will ever return