A Trip

There are swirls inside me,
Curling clouds of color,
Or lack of color,
That form shapes.
They are within me,
And the shapes are vaguely familiar,
They form into things,
Things my mind has been trained,
For 21 years and some odd days,
To perceive as meaningful.

And then I exhale.


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About brettspadaro

Attempting to complete a business degree in southern California. Dream big, act rationally. Go for what you believe in.

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