In a rush they shove us into containers,
Anything they have that will hold us,
Desperate,
They like or hate what fits,
They hate or disregard what doesn’t.

If there is space around us in that shape,
They say it is our fault for not filling.
We are… deficient. Wanting.
Their expectation magically
Becomes our… abnormality.

Some fill the hollow and pass on the containers
Some do not and pretend, and pass on the containers.

And some of us rattle in the containers,
insistent, and
break them.