I feel like I'm telling me a story
A mundane slice of my life that bored me
But now it's precious and gold before me
A treasure chest of words from the old me
He's a younger man; So fresh, so bright eyed
He has all these plans; All of which would die
Not a single hobby shared that survived
Never grew into a skill; That's a lie
But here he is again; To try and share again
Delve deep a different way; To write a different day
Understanding why; New hobbies that I try
Are doomed, in short, to die
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