By curves and lines,
A stiur] ck man is compossed,
With his simple build,
Harm was predisposed,
Knowing not his fate,
Stick man pressed on,
Feeling only gratitude,
That he was even drawn,
Enabled was his life,
Only on paper he moved,
For his every action,
Drawing was behooved
Lacking free will,
Or even what it meant,
Stick man lived on,
With a life of stint,
Then one day he asked,
With a naive thought,
Why must I stay flat,
Can't I be overwrought
Why must I remain,
Only becoming curves and lines,
Will I never be able to know,
More then paper confines,
I was created with reason,
For what reason is that,
If I'm only able to live,
In a world so flat,
Please let me go free,
Explore past my paper bounds,
Let me experience this world,
My boarder surrounds ,
So the artist replys,
I'm so sorry to relay,
My world is not something,
I am simply cutaway,
You must live like this,
Unless you wish I erase,
But then you will not exist,
All you now know will efface,
Stuck Man replies,
So be it I submit,
Erase me if impossible,
For worlds entirety i cant inhabit
This was the end,
If the stick man drawn,
His figure no longer on paper,
But his memory is never gone.
©imaginate
J