No Labels.

Not unlike the aisles in the grocery stores,

Humans are a conglomeration of different packaging.

Varying contents within.

We come into this world,

Fresh creatures with no tags.

No labels.

No sticker on our sides to tell us our values.

We are not made of distinct numbers.

No percentages.

No daily value of specific sexuality,

No grams of a certain identity,

No serving sizes of who we are supposed to be.

We are born with these things inside of us.

However, we are never meant to have a perfect sticker,

Explaining to the world who we are indefinitely.

No absolute label.

I may be pink and blue with an overlapping purple.

Possibly, instead, with overlapping yellow.

I am red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple.

I don’t have a sticker to tell me what percent blue I am.

No marker of my grams of pink.

And no tag of my serving size of the rainbow .

No label.

My packaging has no fact sheet tacked on.

My contents can not be described outwardly.

And my heart is content.