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.