A Box For Those People

Link to article: A Box For Those People.

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=====
[[include component:preview
text="A poem about one of //**those people**// and the box they're stuck in."]]
=====


[[include :scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme]]
[[include :scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl]]

[[module CSS]]
#page-title{display:none}

.those-people{
     text-align: left;
}

.those-people p {
     margin: 0px;
}

.grid {
  display: grid;
  grid-template-columns: 1fr 1fr;
}

.grid > :nth-child(2n) {
  text-align: right;
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.grid > p {
  margin-top: 0;
  margin-bottom: 0;
}

[[/module]]

[[include :scp-wiki:info:start]]
⚠️ **Content warning:** This poem contains references to or explicitly mentions: Suicidal ideation, discrimination against LGBTQ+ people and mental illness.

[[include :scp-wiki:info:end]]

[[include :scp-wiki:component:info-cw]]

------

[[=]]
+ A Box For Those People
[[/=]]

You were at a party in a Halloween disguise,
Attendance semi-willing, driven by social 
Expectation.
A costume, excised from your memory
Sticks to your skin with humidity glue
Making it impossible to rend it off when
Their eyes pierce into you.

@@ @@

The adults whisper politely and stare rudely,
The young children chuckle openly. Innocent
Laughter latches onto your mind, heart and 
Soul. Leeches lap up your ichor,
Bore a hole in your being ripe for 
Parasitic infestation.

@@ @@

You escape with your gods nicknamed friends
To a park lit by polluted moonlight and
Red and blue warnings. The gods giggle
Giddily, gawking at glorious interrogations
You never connected with.

@@ @@

[[div style="opacity: 1;"]]
A prayer to be spared leaves your lips
[[/div]]
[[div style="opacity: 0.75;"]]
As your camouflage activates
[[/div]]
[[div style="opacity: 0.50;"]]
Shielding you from divine eyes
[[/div]]
[[div style="opacity: 0.25;"]]
Ensuring survival for another night
[[/div]]
**What do you think about //them?//**

@@ @@

A question rips through your
False disguise.
It sits in your mind as your synapses fire
Considering, thinking, building, panicking,
Displacing your thoughts in search of an
Answer that isn't there.

@@ @@

That response is unsatisfactory and
Lands you in a box. Its walls are brick
Covered in blood and broken fingernails.
From above your prison, your best friend? spits;
'You're not one of //those people// are you?'

@@ @@

//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
You learn to stay in it to avoid the **__question__**
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
Its walls are strong and keep out the wind
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
It makes you appear just like them
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
But protection holds hands with suppression
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
Restriction ruptures healthy minds
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
The rotting brain matter powers inevitability
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//
It decided your fate before you even knew
//The box is comfortable, the box is safe.//

@@ @@

[[div class="grid"]]
A decade has passed, maybe two

Your childhood's gone, but you're a child still.

You're trapped at home

Too big to stay, too small to go

Living in your sanctuary labelled bedroom

Paralysed in your sheets

Wishing to be where the green grass grows.

Numb, dreaming of dying, fading away

But you're stuck in place by a heavy head

Hope tangled up in rusted barbed wire

And a body that wages war on itself

Ravaging the systems it's meant to protect

For entertainment.

Viciously laughing all the while.

@@ @@

@@ @@

You wander into the kitchen

The kitchen is always a battlefield

Seeking toxic junk to cut out

An endless parade of digital faces

Pollution of the mind.

They're always angry, blaming

Projected from the TV

Hating, despising,

Red-faced blobs screaming

Flailing, contorting, complaining

Of the enemy eviscerating

Deconstructing and disintergrating

Socieities greatest institutions.

The boxes that contain //those people//.

@@ @@

@@ @@

Your saftey lines

Were you ever safe?

Betray you,

Was this outcome unavoidable?

Your grandmother glances from the TV

Were those eyes ever warm?

To acknowledge the disappointment.

The sick child, the other

She asks what you think of

Standing in the rain, peering at

//Those people.//

The ones living the life you're denied.

@@ @@

@@ @@

Your response is measured

Only agreement is acceptable.

Tamed

For all else is treason.

Non-judgement

You need to avoid a gunfight

Vague

Yet your strength feels overwhelming

A cold war.

Held back in vain.

@@ @@

@@ @@

But non-specific doesn't satisfy,

An other is needed, required to blame.

She frowns and asks;

You're not surprised when it comes;

'You're not one of //**those people**// are you?'

'You're not one of //**those people**// are you?'

[[/div]]

@@ @@
@@ @@

[[div class="those-people"]]
[[div style="font-size: 0.2em; margin-top: 4vh;"]]
//those people//
[[/div]]
[[div style="font-size: 0.4em; margin: 1px;"]]
//those people//
[[/div]]
[[div style="font-size: 0.8em; margin: 1px;"]]
//those people//
[[/div]]
[[div style="font-size: 1.6em; margin: 1px;"]]
//those people//
[[/div]]
[[div style="font-size: 3.2em; margin: 1px;"]]
//those people//
[[/div]]
[[div style="font-size: 6.4em; margin-bottom: 1vh;"]]
//those people//
[[/div]]
[[/div]]

Sound waves flow in all directions
Bouncing up walls, enhancing the
Tension.

@@ @@

Your breath comes rapidly 
//in//
**out**
//in//
**out**
//in// 
**out**
You cannot find the ground.

@@ @@

The confusion around you rises in tempo
People struggle, grasping for comprehension.
They want to know the details
the why, how, what, when, where, who,
But all they can do is search for the box
In hopes they might join you.

@@ @@

Later, a man in a lab coat,
His moustache combed, his face
Stained with secrets
Tells you your explosion reach
The next town over.
'You hurt no one,' he says
Face in a clipboard, barely noticing you
'But this means you're one of
**Those people.'**

@@ @@

And so you're given a number
Pretending to be a name
And a box that matches your first
For you to endlessly die in.

@@ @@

The researchers are ants in a colony
Poking and proding you, trying to find
What makes you different.
They ask questions, ignore the answers
That don't meet their expectations.

@@ @@

They're eager at first, testing
Like vultures ravaging a corpse
But you're //**those people**// twice over
A disappointing stew.
You grow boring, average,
A useless child now wearing a
Grey, numbered jumpsuit.

@@ @@

And thus the countdown restarts
Its rhythm reawakens
Visions in your ever gloom-filled mind.
The clock, the box formed on a 
Humid Halloween night 
And the people on screens, 
Formless hatred damning
The broken Veil that brought a plague
Called //**those people**//
That joined hands with the first.

[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]]
[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]

A Box For Those People

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