As we go through life
we find ourselves
longing to fit in
boxes
We want to take all of
our mushiness
and shove it into
the box and its
form
We wish to contain
all that makes us
human to fit perfectly
within what we see is
right
Why?
Refusing to ooze
to wherever we may
stretch
we obey the box
We willingly hop on in
waiting for the box to
morph our new
shape
We do not know where
we could have stretched
and oozed and extended
How unbecoming,
for we cannot breathe
when we are confined
to the shape
of the
box.
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