She sits perched on her stool like an owl on a branch.
Peering over the countertop.
A child, coloring spiritedly, not even looking at the color she picks up.
Completely blinded by her ability to imagine,
she doesn’t know about the unspoken rule that everyone seems to follow.

Nobody colors outside the lines.


She sits, desolate as an empty highway.
Eyeing up the sketch as she worked.
A teenager, drawing her life as she saw it.
Bleak, empty, without purpose.
Entirely changed, she didn’t even remember the days
where she didn’t have a care in the world.
The days where nobody cared, whether or not she knew about the unspoken rule.



Nobody colors outside the lines.