Post Script to an Accident

A narrow pencil
On your colourful walls
Sketching lines
Not so correct, direct or sharp

You lay here like a butterfly
Pinned to a white board

My eyes burned
Seeing your daughter
Drawing on the wall
You must have restricted

A pencil intruding your
Perimeters
Even before you are some
Smoke or ash

Last midnight
A hump on the road
Wiped out many restraints