You labeled me
But, not like the ingredients on a can,
Where the contents no one can see
But, instead like the contents on a box of bran.
I wasn't like the pickles in a glass jar
Where you can tell the dill from the sweet,
You know what they are
Before you sit down then choose and eat.
I was labeled because what you saw
And with it you didn't agree a bit,
Was there an error and/ or a flaw
I guess, I was labeled maybe because of my wit.
You just labeled me
Because of what you heard and saw which is sad,
Maybe because of my color or my family tree
Just as the Nazis would had.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem