What happens to an empty box?

The thought of me not fitting

Neatly into their box

Sacres them for some reason

Not quite this, not fully that

I don't check off

All the things on the list

To call me one or the other

 

I spent

No, wasted

Years of my life trying to fit

Into a box that wasn't made for me

Trying to change aspects of myself just

To appease those around me

In a constant struggle with who

I am 

And who they made me feel

I should be

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

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