Colorbox

As a child, they taught me how to put shapes in a box
I learned to base judgement on a wooden contour
The colors guiding me to do things correctly
But the triangle, circle and square are chaos when I try

Recognizing regular forms and shapes is vital, they said
Only mayhem forms from an unstable base.
“Is that what you want?” they asked me without question
My youthful creations tumbled as I tried wondering

Later I was perfect, coloring between the lines
Baseline accepted, causing not a single ripple
People still ask me now why I walk so silent
Or why I’m not even able to shout

Keeping form makes life manageable.
Or it makes me manageable for others.
But when I occasionally let go.
I feel alive

I do not get scared by familiar shadows
The people in my circle see it the same way
Their recognition squares my personality
In our safety we find purpose

Now I start that old game the same
Collecting the bits that come in all shapes
Looking at where they should go
But now I build, 

Towers for me and all
In a rainbow array of colors
Collapsing and rising
Failing and growing

All can see
With a smile
How I build
How I try