There’s a point in space where two lines meet,
An angle, a corner, a bedazzling cosmic feat.
Sparks fly when they meet right, hands intertwined.
When they don’t, however, there are problems left behind.
My line once met another line – a dark, scary one.
It was more a block, a shock, the meeting was no fun.
My line lay hurt, changed, now a curve, but alive at least,
I curse who did this, for he’s no line, but a geometric beast.
And now I squiggle, eraser in hand, ending lines that cross,
The parallels I see, with lines like me, unaware, at risk, at a loss.
So here I am officer, confessing my crimes, my legend now has a face.
Your line of questioning lead me to the point, where two lines meet in space.