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.