Same old, same old

Another room, another bed,
but same old me and same old pen.
Another rise, another set,
but same old thoughts run through my head.

Another night before a day.
Another poem, come what may.
Another choice; I chose to stay,
and sleep upon this bed I lay.

But same old pages, same old book.
The same old mind and same old looks.
The same old fate; this path I took
to seek the future I forsook.

Another verse, another end,
but same old rhymes and same old stems.
Another dream, another kept,
but same old me and same old pen.

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