By: Richard Zhao

Although a day is filled with many work hours

Most all of them are spent badly, in waste

With few among us using time to flower

It seems most plans will not be done in haste

Every moment students protest and sigh

As the employed complain about due dates

“We will run out of time to work” they cry

As they stress over all the work on their plates

Dissent need not belong because of time

And last minute labor rarely delays

Only when pressed does the brain decide to chime

Though woefully late at the end of day

A terrible scourge, procrastination

Planting stops in the way of creation