Sneaky peak preview

Gonna post the beginnings of a poem that I'm currently working on. Just for funsies.
It was really weird actually, the evening when I decided I was gonna write on this concept, I was doing some youtube poetry watching. After watching for like 40 minutes, I clicked on one vid and was like okay, after this one I musttt go and write my poem. And oh the irony, the poem I started watching was based on the same concept as my unborn poem. It was so bizarre.
I went on with the poem anyway, but I'm thinking, unintentionally, it will now have elements of the poem I watched in it. Never mind...
(It's consciously a typical 'im black(and asian) and proud/them and us' kind of poem. My views to an extent but highly exaggerated. Cheeky bit o' feminism in there too)

Boxes.

In some respects, we are nothing but lettering and numbers on various pieces of paper and cards.
From birth certificates to passports to drivers' licenses to the forms we fill in every single time any single things happens.
Same questions.
Name. Date of birth. Gender. Race. Race.
(Although that won't be taken into account at all in the processing of this form)
Please tick the box which applies to you
Tick. The. Box.
Tick. The. Box.
How dare you try to squeeze me and my heritage into one tiny box?
Mixed: white and black.
Mixed: white and asian.
Mixed: other.
Mixed: other. Is that all I can tick to represent what I am?
The rivers that ran riot through the souls of my ancestors cannot and will not be contained by your box
The Gongola river where they washed their clothes and washed their souls and were born anew
Mass gatherings at the Ganges to soak their far from sullenly coloured saris
And give their young freedom to splash and wade as they pleased
Your box cannot and will not define me
The contours of my countries nor those of my corpus do not course in straight, angular lines, they will not fit
In fact, all your boxes fail in their attempts to imprison me within their categories and subcategories
My female form will not be fettered
The ebbs and flos of she, the bump when life begins inside of me are not lines and right angles, they are curvaceous and round
Like the sun and the moon
Naturally in tune with nature and the natural ... TBC.