Boxes

Take me out of this box you made for me!

“You don’t look like a terrorist” she says to me.

As I take a sip of my drink, I smile, for she thought she complimented me.

I get lost in the ignorance… or maybe it’s innocence that puts me in such a box.

Should I change my name? Maybe dye my hair blond just so you can relate to me?

 

 

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