Slice of Life

Forming words to a certain mold seems so normal now, now that I know that the molds come in different shapes and sizes. I found myself testing them again yesterday, adding and removing syllables to make the puzzle fit together. The first time I tried, the ends of the letters poked out of the mold and the little gaps in the middle reflected my lack of practice. I turned them over in my mouth because they didn't quite taste right, but the faces of my classmates proved that I was not the only one. I spat them out, grooming my inflections and my tone to quench the dissonance of the phrases. I couldn't wait to get that over with, my classmates' vision pressing into my cheeks and making them hot. I finished, I repeated my words with only a couple of stumbles and was met with the mandatory, yet irritating, snap-clapping.
The molded words are poetry and while reading my first poem was awkward, I've gotten over it. I'm better at shaping my sentences so only an end or the dot of an 'i' pokes outside the lines. After all, poetry, while maybe not a valuable life skill, will always be a part of my life at Logan, so the best I can do is to just get over it.