Happy Emos,
Lonely Jocks.
Messed up kids,
hang in flocks.
Uncool Cheerleaders,
Popular Nerds.
Having lifes,
grouped in herds.
Down the hall
and up the stairs,
given up punks,
say their prayers.
Don't you see,
this is what people don't say.
Because of cliques,
it's the price we pay.
wow so true you never know what hides behined a smile that way me and my friends allway say smiles are no more then empty love
Mikayla, you write way beyond your years. I look forward to reading more. Ron
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
unfortunately thats the way it is i know its lousy