The turmoil that squirms from within
Continuously egging you on to do something
To deal with this quagmire of unproductivity.
In your mind
It mirrors the many ways of solutions
Like a maze
With many temptations potential moves you can make
Yet there is this vexatious doubt that bugs you like a fly
About the probability of success of it.
So in the end
I’m sitting right here in my couch
Entrapped within my own puzzle of indecisiveness
As I watch the hours pass by.
Idleness, I finally admit.
Because of my strict principle of using time to the fullest
Peppered with a tinge of my perfectionist nature
I result in nothingness.