I can feel them slipping from my mind,
The colors, the voices, dulling to mute,
Leaving me in darkness, with only echoes to find.

I was once abstract, now an astute,
My once random splashes of warring colors,
Now caged and barred by lines, grids, of refute.

My masterpiece! Destroyed, and overcast by pallor,
Of sickeningly straight, geometrically perfect lines,
Now lays in tatters, a ghost of my creative power.

This is a plead, from my heart which still pines,
Don't let yourself go, don't let yourself hide,
*Don't ever, let them restrict you with their lines.