I wrote this poem in November of 2024.

looking back on my tbr list from 2016 I think
-pretentious much-
it feels like it was a different person
who added 600 something books to goodreads
because now I don’t have any interest
in most of these books
in fact, most of these books that I once
wanted to read would now bore me to tears
maybe in 2016, I thought reading books
about philosophy and history would make me smart
enough for those I thought as evolved
and now it just disgusts me
now,I’d rather stick to poetry and interesting stories