Soup

I am brand new.
The old labels are ripped off
And there aren’t new ones to replace them
To cover the ribbed metal can of myself.
I just keep changing and growing
Wondering, not hoping, if anyone will buy me now
That I don’t prioritize advertisement.
I look at all of you, with your suspicious stares.
The lions shudder and pull away at one glance.
The courageous few reach out,
Take me, shake me,
Wondering if I’m the fruit they want (covet).
Listen to my only response
Of juice and juice on frozen metal.
The answer is confusing; they’re crippled by my understanding.
They’re so bored, sweating,
Wanting something more.
But I keep changing.
The answer mocks confusion.

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