Patterns
I see what’s to come
But it’s black and white
Though I can’t predict colors
You’ll see that I’m right
I’ve had my eyes open
While circling the sun
Made note of the changes
And how things are done
Eyes fixed on the patterns
And sequence of events
It began with a system
And recurred, ever since
I’d choose to be blind
If given a choice
But can’t travel time
Demanding a voice
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2019
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