It’s humans, not cats, who adore little boxes,
With neat little labels describing the form,
To give us directions, resolve paradoxes,
To set expectations for how to conform.
For names and identities, origin stories,
For bodies, emotions and ways to perform,
Till everyone falls into nice categories,
For both outliers and an averaged norm.
And if it is wrong, you can choose a new label,
From all of the options we currently know,
If still disappointed, you’re perfectly able
To fashion a shinier box of your own.
But what if my life is not neatly divisible,
What if what I am is too wild and too free?
Outside of the box, I am rendered invisible,
With only one label that is “simply me.”
Little boxes
© Copyright: Анна Куранова, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126100600434
Свидетельство о публикации №126100600434
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