They said that I couldn’t draw anything,
but the trees,
They said that I had to write
in complete sentences,
so I found a noun, a verb, an idea
and combined the clauses.
They said that I couldn’t use my hands in soccer,
so I dropped the ball
over my cleats.
They said that I couldn’t wear jeans
to the piano recital,
so I put on my only dress
behind the curtains.
They said that art couldn’t be anything but pretty,
to be perfectly symmetrical and shaded realistically,
so my pencil dragged along gray graphite
and I crumpled
my collection of scribbles into the trash.
They said that I couldn’t wander
off the trail, into the field of brilliant yellow flowers.
Their petals turned to marvel at the sun,
whose intangible rays promised freedom,
but I focused my eyes
on the dirt path
and I slumped
among the trees.
They said that I couldn’t.
So I didn’t.