When the only shape that fit was square,
She wished to be an octagon.
And fitting in seemed quite unfair,
When the only shape that fit was square.
The same boxed image everywhere
Leaving life no clothes to don.
When the only shape that fit was square,
She wished to be an octagon.
This poem is called a triolet. A triolet is a short eight-line poem with only two rhymes, A and B. It follows a specific pattern. The first line must be repeated on lines four and seven. The second line must be repeated on line eight. It is as follows: A B a A a b A B
Although I write primarily free verse, I like the challenge of structured poetry.
About the Creator
Sandra Matos
I write so that people will remember me. I make art for the same reason. I had a mother that I never knew. Who she was, how she smelled, or what she valued. I don't want anyone to wonder who I was.
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