Sticky Situations and Stuff

So I have decided to change the focus of this blog a little bit to be more focused on me just putting some poems and stuff that I have written on here, so that this can be more of an artistic outlet. But who honestly knows because I could stick to that or I could (probably) not so don’t take my word for it.

So this poem that I am going to be posting now, I wrote while I was working. I don’t think that I have told you guys, but I am an intern in a plant science lab doing research which is an amazing opportunity and I have really experienced a lot and I am so grateful for the opportunity, but it has helped me come to the conclusion that I could not work in a lab as my career. It’s nothing against the people that do, I have just found that it is very important for me to be able to have a job where I can go outside, I can talk to people, I am surrounded by color as opposed to sitting in a bland white room with no people and no windows. I need to be able to explore, I can’t live off of a procedure. But anyways (see how this being a blog composed of just my poems is kinda impractical) it has given me a lot of inspiration for writing so here is one of the first ones:) Enjoy!

 

There is tape

Rubbed against the side of every single container

It’s kept in rolls and thrust into every drawer

It would be easy for me to reach across the bland, grey surface

Over the tubes full of chemicals I don’t care to know

and crumpled foil I don’t care to throw away

And slide my finger through the roll of tape

Tossed carefully aside

It would be easy to let it twirl around my knuckles

It would be easy to tear off a piece

Or maybe tear off two

Just to feel what it is like to rip something with such ease and grace

That’s the funny thing about the lab

Everything is covered in tape

Red, green, yellow

White with purple stripes

And blue with orange trim

And the reason for that is because they need to label everything

Yes, I know that is bland, but that is the truth

And they make their labels out of tape

(Glad we have gotten that cleared up)

In case you didn’t know, I will tell you that labels

are nothing to mess with

Especially in a sanctuary of science

Every detail of a label means something important

So why is it so easy for me to reach over

things that I don’t care about

to grab a hold of their labels,

dangle them between my palms

and then tear them?

It would be easy for me to rip those labels as many times as I choose

In any fashion or nature

those labels could become nothing

So why do you trust them so much?

After all, it’s just a piece of tape.

Say you and I were friends

Friends that were able to leave their trust in each other

And I told you that this glass that you held in your hand was full of cyanide

But there was a piece of tape plastered against the side

that said “water”

Would you drink it?

(I’d hope that you wouldn’t)

What if you had just met me and I told you that my name was Janet

And I walked and talked like a Janet

But my name tag said “Ben”

What would you call me?

(I hope you’d say Janet)

You say that maybe it’s not the same thing

but it is

It would be so easy for me to tear those labels apart

Almost as easy as it was for you to put them there in the first place

What if that label were wrong?

Would you even care?

What if you took a sip from a bottle of cyanide that said “water” on the front?

Would you care then?

What if you called me “Ben” when I told you my name was Janet?

You think that it isn’t the same thing?

Good luck calling me “Ben” when your stomach is full of

cyanide.

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