Out of Shape

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.