A Distraction


The place  is strewn with notes,
required and unwanted.
They lie there for years
I never bother to arrange.

They fly when I turn the fan.
The table  looks chaotic.
I do not pick them
feel lazy all the while.

I neglect my duties.
look distraught
so are my possessions,
unkempt and in disorder.

This has been my program
right from the school days
when my books and notes
reveal  a disarray.

I am the same decades later.
As they say habit dies hard
I continue to live in a deviation,
a distraction hard to overcome.

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