In every school
in every country
there is
The b****.
The wining
putrescence
that haunts our halls.
Beside her is The cow
who moos
to criticise
your every action
as if it's
worth
no more
than the gunk on her shoe.
In the shadows is The s***
who stinks up
our daily lives
with their remarks.
And the bane of life
is That Girl.
That special
wonderful
perfect girl,
who plays for the county
writes plays for the RSC
has discovered a new element
and finds it fit
to look upon
your every action
with hatred
with laughter
with mocking
and its worse than the others
because she
is
better than you
and you start to shrink
in everyone's
(your own)
estimation.
And slowly
and surely
it chips away
at chalk walls
of confidence
of hope
of life.
Until you become the
b**** or
the cow or
a piece of
s***
and that perfect girl
stares back
as a young woman
or one who's old
and
as always
she laughs.