Slipping Gears

The hour grows late
And much remains to be done.
But motivation
Fled long before light faded
Leaving in the dusk
Many tasks uncompleted
And a growing sense of dread.
This familiar place
Remains uncomfortable
Even with frequent visits.
Impetus for change
Appears to be no match for
Entrenched habits,
Perhaps changing scenery
Will also change perspective?

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