Call Me Friend

What's the use of putting me in a box?
A box that dictates my shape?
My size?
My color?
What's the use of labeling me?
Stamping me with words
Like Geek?
Nerd?
Loser?
Or even the nice ones
Like Beautiful?
Smart?
Perfect?
Why do you try?

You see,
I am more
Than what you see.
Your boxes are not shaped to fit
My personality
My spontaneity
My heart.
Your labels will not stick,
For what can adhere to a soul?
You may categorize me
If that satisfies you,
But your gold stars
And your gray dots
Will slip right off.

If it should come down to this,
In the end,
Drop your labels
Squash your boxes.
Just take my hand
And call me
Friend.