Corridors

My mind is a cave. Made up of a dysfunctional system. Some corridors end, Some go in circles. Some split too much and lead to caverns. My mind is a cave. Made of an intricate layout. Some corridors go on forever, Some have paint splattering the walls. Some have lights that dance across their ceilings. Nobody roams these corridors but me. So nobody can tell me     how to connect them     or where the last turn came from.