I’m sitting in my last class of the day. The teacher is busily talking about multiple types of poems and the most recognized poems made by iconic people. Although I like my teacher, I really hate making poems. In the beginning, he’d explain about the poems, then he’ll make us write some, then he’ll hold a poetry slam. I’m not exactly the type of person who loves the crowd. I tend to stay away from them, have been doing that since birth actually.

          I looked out the window to watch the sky when Mr. Lee’s last 2 sentences caught my attention.

          “Please write 3 different types of poems before you leave. None of you will be able to leave until you’ve submitted yours.”

          I inwardly groaned. I have to rack my brain for some strong emotions now.

          I grabbed a piece of paper out of my binder and pressed the top of my mechanical pencil. I have no idea what to write about for the first 5 minutes when it struck me. I should write about my family. They’re the ones I know the most about. I started writing down the feelings I felt, some memories, and who they are to me. As I was writing, I accidentally made a spelling mistake. I opened my pencil case to grab my eraser but it’s nowhere to be seen at all. I opened my bag just to check if I accidentally carelessly threw it in there but no, it’s not there. I suddenly remembered when I was asking my History teacher for some help. I sat down with him on his table, wrote down what