Once upon a time, there was a box,
Who always feel that he always lacks,
Of a proper shape and a proper from,
Because being a box is just the norm.
That's why he trimmed his self and now he's a ball,
A bouncy one, a rock who rolls,
Yet the other boxes throw shades at him,
They said he's stupid for getting trimmed.
But the box that now becomes a ball can easily turn left and right,
He can already see the world in a proper sight.
Up or down he can enjoy the view,
He closes his eyes and this feels so new.
But again, the other boxes grew their hate,
They even try to burn him but it's too late,
For the box that now becomes a ball can easily lift some heights,
He can now run away and enjoy his flight.
