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.