He subjected to my torture

Painting a vivid picture of a sunset

That led to a beautiful array of stars in a crisp night

Raising the hope and yearning to see it again

And I had been damned, forced to read the paragraph after him

Talk about a tough act to follow

I didn't try so hard with my piece

I merely described; there was no heart

No vivid details that would evoke those feelings

If any emotion at all were to rise

It would be the disappointment flushing my thoughts

As I read my sorry excuse of an assignment

Why did I have to say: I want to be a writing major?

Like all proper English got washed away in my shaking nerves

Well I hadn't said those exact words

They more or less fumbled and broke from my speech

Like I want to be a "wajor"

By definition was a cross between pathetic and idiotic

My world sank around me

Punctuation blurring as white against the sheet behind it

Following them, the spaces began vanishing into thin air

I was rushing, stumbling, tripping in my speech

(Which I usually reserved for my feet)

Through the last few sentences of my piece

The class clapped anyways

Whether or not they really meant that applause at 7:30 in the morning

I don't really want to know

So I stuck with some small self-assurance

That being a "wajor"

Isn't such a bad thing after all