Pointless
The Book of FatesI’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
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