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infants are stamped to maximize efficiency

to help society run smoothly, you understand

yes, they're stamped

right between their chubby little legs

 

categorized in neat little boxes

pretty or handsome, lovely or strong

pink or blue 

pink or blue

 

they grow up

hopefully able to fit in their box

if not, oh well

it's a shame, but there are flaws in the system

 

sometimes the barcode gets smudged

the lines are blurred, the parents are 

uncomfortable

not to worry, doctors can fix that

make them fit in their neat little box

 

it is clear that

purple children do not belong

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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