So many people play the game
To win opinions and high school fame
Eyes boring holes in their minds as they walk down the hall
Constantly wondering “Am I enough?”
To fit the choice clique, or call the gang’s bluff

But is it worth the cost?
All this for a game
Endless stressing, emotional messing
To trade your being,
Putting your true self on the shelf
To save for “someday”

All to please people you care nothing about
For fleeting joy, popularity, dreams:

Trouble to keep up your dramatized image inflation

You think it will matter in ten years?
Who was queen bee and who was just weird?

Even if you win, the game never ends,
The endless circle of plastic fake friends.

So the next time a prude is rude to your face,
take it in stride, be glad you’re not bound to the game.