Our past is trapped. 
It's trapped inside our favorite stuffed animal, that one we never got rid of. The softest, fluffiest one that you can still feel if you imagine it.

Our past is trapped.
It's trapped within the confines of the chalk outlines on the blacktop at recess. The shape that perfectly fit our much smaller bodies inside.

Our past is trapped.
It's trapped in the one food that could take us back so fast, it's like we never left. The one’s smell we could recognize from the street.

Our past is trapped.
It's trapped at the core of what we believe in. The observations we made and the opinions we formed because of what we saw.

Our past is trapped.
It's trapped because we left it behind. We grew up and changed and formed into the current versions of ourselves.

Our past is trapped.
It's trapped, but never far away. The way it surrounds us in clouds of memories, swooping and dipping, but always coming back; that sometimes, we forget we ever left the past.