Do not try to colour me in
I live outside the lines
Smudgy edges outline me
I cannot be confined
My life is a work in progress
And cannot be defined
By rules of art or rules of law
I cannot be refined
The shades you see are not from me
But reflections of your mind
The hues you use are what you choose
I cannot be assigned
A sketch an oil a watercolour
I am not organised
The form I take is what I make
I cannot be designed
A line an arc a watermark
Or something more sublime
Create my form from imagery
I will not be aligned
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem