I'm not some can of soup

Sitting on a shelf at

The Price Chopper down the street.

I'm not a DVD in the five dollar

Movie bin, cover describing who I am.

I'm not an Ice Breaker container,

Easily identified by the color.

.

Since I'm not one of those things,

Why do you feel the need

To label me, as if you know me?

You never know what might be

Inside of me, the surprise toys

Inside every package of Mighty Beans.

.

You might uncork the bottle

To find out I was Crystal Light,

Not the wine you were promised.

I might be the Ibuprofen pill

Hidden amongst the Tylenol.

I might be the book they screwed up,

Putting the cover on backwards.

.

The thing is, you can't know me,

Not until you open me up

And look to see who I really am.

The tomato soup in a can

Labeled chicken noodle soup.

The Halloween trash bag

That promised it was a table cover.

The real diamond ring that

Pretended to be a fake.

All of those things surprised you;

I know I'll be a surprise to you.

.

So you have no right to sit there,

Labeling me with words.

Ugly, beautiful, annoying,

Popular, gay, straight, bisexual,

Christian, atheist, undecided,

Depressed. happy, shy,

Loud, unloved, loved.

All you see is the container,

The outer layers.

.

I might just be a surprise inside,

The prize inside a box of bland cereal.

You can't just write me off

As being something particular,

When you haven't even tried looking

At who I really am.