Poem: Too much must be done

Too much must be done

and I am not good at doing it.
Even simple things,
even the things I want to do.
I do not know what to say about it.
It is fear, probably, and, also,
habit, and there is more, too,
I am certain that is true.
If only understanding
would get me to act,
but I think all the time
and now I wonder
if analyzing what is wrong
is just another way
I keep myself busy
without getting anywhere.

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