Boxes

By
In a world full of labels, stereotypes and scars,
everyone’s fighting to prove who they are.
They get thrown in a box, and given a name:
geek, freak, prep, and jock; they’re pretty much the same.
And nobody knows where these came from or who
had the power to place labels on me and on you.
Still we try to fight them and we try not to perceive
maybe just what our label makes everyone believe.
We have no reason to cast the blame
on someone when we don’t even know their name.
What happened to times where nobody cared
about how to dress or what clothes to wear?
I sit here in class as the blame starts to fly.
Girls start to complain about their label and why
they got stuck with a name that’s so vulgar and wrong,
when they put me in a place that I do not belong!
So everyone’s wronged and no one is right
but the labels can’t change, at least not overnight.
So what’s the big deal, and why such a fuss?
Everyone does it; there is no need to cuss!
We use words in ways that seem awful and rude,
the tension still simmers and feelings still brood.
All this hatred and loathing, based on nothing but lies,
is really quite childish, and yet no one tries
to change their opinions and quit being the judge
who has such a temper and holds a mean grudge.
Aren’t we tired of these boxes? Don’t we all want to get out?
Still we keep on labeling, keep on boxing without a doubt.
What we’re doing isn’t right but that’s the way it’s supposed to be,
and it’s keeping them from knowing her and her from knowing me.
There’s no way to stop it and no way to heal the pain.
There you have the reason that it starts over again.





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