On Being Square

You thought you had me down-

Squarely pegged in your round hole-

Always failed to fit your mold-

Hid my face and sold my soul.

 

You thought you knew my lines-

Formed words to fill my silence-

Merely filling up your mind-

Fitting me in your fence.

 

A square is bound by rules-

Of perfect symmetry-

Enslaved by strict dimensions-

Limited by simplicity.

 

Perfect angles with straight lines-

I’m a master of disguise-

Carefully hidden from your view-

This great divide where I reside.

 

A tangled mess- an irregular form-

Shifting and pushing against the norm-

You keep your hole- it’s too uniform-

Hold what you know- while I transform!

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