Poems of Me

Queen Bee

21/4/14

At the top, it's you,
High on your throne
At the bottom, Mary Lou
Who hates being alone
In between
Is all the fools
And the geeks
Then cools
And then there's me

You sit higher than all
Smirking down at us
On our knees, we fall
And are lashed by criticised fuss
We take it all in
Smile politely back
Not all of us are thin
Please understand that

We aren't going to
Show hurt in open air
Throw up or cut the pain in for you
Never will you see from your chair
We pretend to love and lust
And probably to hate
"Your fashion sense is a must"
Or so they all say

I feel sorry for you, friend
With these fake friends around you
They can easily declare the end
But they're scared of you too
The wrath you may inflict
The more hurt they'd induce
But that's just your conflict
They prepare for your remarks to reduce.