You predefine where I can draw a line.
Or tell me how to write a rhyme.
But you cannot choose the color of the day.
You tell me what goes with what.
If I am silly or acting a nut.
But a question I have if I may?
Who has the final say on matters?
On this, that, or the later.
Whoever made these rules we use.
For rules are at the root of the issue.
I despise them, I will never miss you.
For with them I feel the abuse.
You confine my creative nature.
With your color by number legislature.
Free me from these external constraints.
And with the bonds now loose, I walk free.
To soar like a bird, whatever I want to be.
To color anything, free of restraint.