Sta.sh
There is a store
That, by decree,
Must regulate
Society.
“I need a label!”
The small boy cried.
“I cannot show
My face outside!
I don’t fit in!
For no one knows
If my mind fits in
With my clothes.
They don’t know how
To deal with me!
How will I mix
With society?”
The keeper of
The little shop
Calmed the boy
And told him “Stop,
I bid you welcome
Little tot,
Welcome to
The Label Shop.
And what you fear
Is no surprise
It is the fear
Of girls and guys
And old and young,
The ugly too.
The wise and dim,
The sick with flu
The democratic
Republican,
Those creepy, naughty
Gross old men,
And every human
That you see
Wants to fit
With society.”
The salesman paused
For drama’s sake
“Young man, I can”
A label make.
Yes, a label
Is what you need
Satisfaction
Guaranteed
I have a tag
For all mankind
A few must fit
Your state of mind
So come right in
And don’t be shy,
We’ve got the goods
That will apply!”
And sure enough
He really did
Enough in stock
For every kid!
The boy was awed
And thought “How great!
This shop must be
An act of fate
My tears, my flight
They led me here.”
He raised his head
And answered clear.
A resounding Yes!
Was his reply.
“There must be a label
I can buy.”
But the tags he picked
Refused to stick
“Don’t worry, this one
Will do the trick.”
The skater boy,
The athlete grand,
A member of
The marching band,
The kinda smart,
The kinda cute,
The sexy gorgeous
Brainless brute,
The bully mean,
The coward quick,
The smelly boy
That makes you sick,
The silent type
Who’s really shy,
The fabulous popular
Retro gay guy,
The hot bad-boy,
The drama queen,
The tenchcoat-wielding
Angsty teen,
The punk, the goth
The drunken minor,
The emo wearing
Black eyeliner
The prep, the nerd
The jock, the geek,
Even the anime-
Loving freak.
They tried all day
And half the night.
“Why won’t these labels
Stick on right?”
The shopkeeper huffed
and coughed and sighed.
“There’s still one that
We haven’t tried.
We’ve looked through my
Entire stock.
So this should not
Come as a shock.”
He slapped it on
Like a pickup truck.
But joy of joys,
The label stuck!
“Triumph!” the salesman
Cried aloud.
“This label is you
So wear it proud.”
The boy yelled, “Hey!
Now, not so fast!
Why does this label
Say ‘OUTCAST?’
I’m no outcast,
That’s not fair.”
His cries were met
With, “I don’t care”
His face was mean
And filled with stress.
“You’re marked, we’re done
My store is a mess”
The label is on,
You vermin, you trash,
You wouldn’t conform,
Will you pay with cash?
Or check or card?
Any will do.
But the tag is on
So pay, and shoo.
The labeled boy,
Filled with defeat,
Paid, and began
His sad retreat
He wished he’d wanted
To be free
From the labels of
Society
The shopkeeper smiled,
Standing there.
“Another customer
Served with care.”
There is a store
That, by decree,
Must regulate
Society.
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