A tongue twisting poem
Typing three tales with a twist in my teeth,
Tangled in timelines I barely can breathe.
Plotlines pounce, paragraphs prance,
Pens tap-dancing in a triple trance.
One’s got witches, one’s got war,
One's got worlds I forgot I swore.
Characters chatter, clatter, clash,
Chronicles crashing in caffeinated flash.
“Focus,” I mumble, “Finish one first!”
But focus flits by in a flurry and burst.
Scripts skip steps as I scribble and stall,
Spinning sentences that say nothing at all.
Backspace battles, bold fonts brawl,
Brain cells bouncing like a broken beach ball.
Chapter checkers chasing cues,
While my notes look like cryptic clues.
Pages pile like pancakes pitched,
Schedules shifting, sanity switched.
Still I smile, struck by the spell—
Of writing three stories like a literary hell.
But better this chaos than silence and dust,
Even if all my outlines combust.
So I’ll tap ‘til my tales tangle into a rhyme—
Queen of procrastination, killing it every time.
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