Straight lines and precise curves,

The intricate crosses in it,

Not crossing in any other way,

Not a scratch out of place.

Blocks and shades,

Within the lines,

Out of the box,

But still within the lines.

Controlling every move I make,

Making sure its picture perfect,

Art, abstract,

But only my version of it.

I’m holding on to the reins,

So tightly my hands hurt.

Never willing to lose even a smidge,

Of the control I’m clutching on to.

The art still beautiful,

Taking its own course,

Growing by itself,

Letting it lead me in the dark.

But I hate the dark,

I love knowing,

No, I can’t do it,

I clutch the reins harder…

~thryaksha