It starts with a smile,
something that lasts for a while.
It starts with a hug,
something that would last in your head, a sentiment, a dear old mug.
But it ends with the same old smile
and the same old hug,
yet, it won't feel the same
and makes you feel ever so lame.
The butterflies that once did exist in your stomach
seem to wither and die
and makes you look up at the same old person
that once made you lie
So much to your parents, just so you can hang out with them more,
because everything else you did was such a bore.
Interest, one word, eight letters
can disappear so fast,
makes you wonder
if it can ever last.