You think this is funny.
Making fun of the sticker that claims me.
You take it off me, so aggressively, as you place it on your neighbors arm.
“You are now number 4131” you giggle as you read the name of my new identity.
You do not understand the pain that I go through,
You do not know the past I lived.
Do you understand what it means to be called that number?
Do you know the past that number gave me?
The journey I took when I was ripped from the tree.
We joked about this,
My friends and I.
We did not think that the elders were right,
When they say that the humans would yank us from the tree to place us in a box.
We thought it was funny when the elders said these stories.
We were hoping that they were joking.
It was not the same when the humans came,
They ripped us from the trees,
Separated us by color, size, and shape,
Stamped a sticker on us to show who we belonged to.
I no longer have a name,
Only a number,
we no longer have homes,
only this bag or box.
If we were bruised or small
We would never be bought,
Only thrown away and left to rot.
If we look healthy and strong,
a human will buy us and take us home.
We would be put on display,
be chopped up and cooked,
some even eat us raw.
This is not a life I wanted,
This is not a life I chose.
You think this is funny?
Try being called 4131.