All the Ways to Tell You

Poetry

(Corrie's POV)

Corrie sat up with her back against the hide-out's backing. Grey. I find it strange that people like those sporty, thick headed popular guys with no personality. All the girls like them but why? They aren't attractive, they aren't very smart, they aren't very nice, and they aren't funny. What do girls see in those kind of guys? Grey is the opposite. He's so cute, funny, smart, and super nice. So why do all the girls not have a crush on him? Girls at her school confused Corrie. They always wore the strangest clothes. She never understood the need in jeans that already came ripped. Some just looked like they threw a perfectly good pair of jeans under a lawn mower. And they wore crop tips and other revealing clothes. Why? For attention? It didn't look good to her. She never wore that kind of stuff. And also, why did they all swoon over those tasteless, border line sexist and mean jocks that couldn't get into a good college without a sports scholarship. Focus. Write something. She talked her chin with her Totoro pen and thought. In history class, they were learning about Feudal Japan. Corrie loved Japan, and was a quarter Japanese. She was "a total weaboo" as her friends called her. Corrie thought about a tanka, a Japanese poem structure similar to a haiku, but a little longer. It went 5 syllables, then seven, five, seven, and seven. She uncapped her pen and started writing:

"Love is like a tree,
Some bloom, but wither and die,
Some are evergreen.
My love for you is in bloom,
And it will never wither. "

She shrugged. It was cringey, but then again she never was good at writing love poems. She flipped back to the last page she had written on and wrote number two.
2) A poem