In-a-Box :- by Gilly Smith

*Written 2010

Conformity,
why do you make fun of me?

I’m always the subject of your rumour,
and the butt of a joke for good humour.

All I wanted was to join the race,
to be accepted and find my place.

I’ll never meet with your cubist ideals,
nor will I fit into your social square.

Is that why I’m not accepted?,
Is that why you stop and stare?

*

So you want me join your gang?,
Well you must be dreaming!

Oh I can pretend to fit in,
but inside I will be screaming!

*

So I’ll just wait thanks,
In hope to find my kind.

Ones that are not blinkered,
or socially blind.

I’ll take it from here thanks,
and try it my way.

In the kindest of company,
In which I wish to stay.

Then when finality calls,
with the last bat of my lashes.

I’ll leave instructions to burn me,
and scatter my ashes.

Happy to have known you,
and shared all of me.

Giving subsistence,
to some old oak tree.

I’ve never fitted in a damned box anyway!