Middle School

Feeling the electric lines and their sparkling chatter recalls a sense of self

A reverting of time as memories of large hair, low jeans, and evolving form return

Futures shaped by revolving choices, some regretted and others laughed away

Friends made, true or not, in haymaker fashion of smiles and tears

Running in the light breaks, books thrown to the wind as the sun embraces our skin

There were happier days of my youth, but few can reach this time of chaos and uncertainty

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