I look around.
There are so many
Boxes.
Boxes of the hundreds,
Thousands,
Millions,
Billions
So many I could not possibly count
The endless hall of boxes
Going on forever and ever and ever. . . .
And ever is a long time you know.
These boxes
Have so many labels.
I walk up
To a. . . box
As I wonder what it could possibly be.
I open this box
And wouldn't you believe
A box filled with those
Who do not instantly agree
With who they were born as
And what they should be.
Another box
Filled with little Muslim girls
Who are the cutest, sweetest things
In the terrorist box
But why. . .
Why be so cruel?
So cruel to those little things?
