Social Commentary


Emo girl, gauged ears like sink plugs

Bracelets hiding both arms, like a secret.

Vibrant hair, changes like a chameleon.

Proud fashion adaptive and social maverick.



Jockamo boy, term coined by fed up theater teacher.

Chacos, tank top, unconventional Jeep,

glistening with sweat from track practice,

like a self-made Olympian god.

(His breath probably smells like jerky).


Ninth grade socialite, smells like Bath and Bodyworks

Cellphone in Otterbox to ensure damage protection

Self-esteem damaged upon first breakup instead.

Searches for heart otterboxes on Etsy,

but falls asleep to Ed Sheeran in the background.


Football player/Wrestler/basketball player,

No one remembers, it’s all the same.

Breathes weight training, bleeds Powerade.

Excessively loud and too close to my locker.

His friends are equally obnoxious.


Fangirl, Tardis necklace, Supernatural shirt.

Appears sleep deprived, yet still chipper.

Boasts Netflix marathon.

Writes fanfiction, draws OTP.

Dark blue, scrolling down her dashboard.


Dudebro, shirt says “Party”, eyes say “weed”.

Drunk? Maybe. High? Definitely.

Aura screams a thousand red solo cups.

Doused in lethal cocktail of Axe and Oldspice.

Didn’t finish his history project.


Band geek, plays instrument of indeterminate name.

Knows every one of Pink Floyd’s albums,

and pretends to like listening to them.

Quirky and different,

just like the rest of the band.


Weeaboo, you can almost hear Hatsune Miku playing.

Prefers otaku.

Reads manga while teacher pretends not to notice.

Uses gratuitous Japanese,

exalts Ramen noodles and Pocky sticks as Asian delicacies.


Fanboy, publicly a Zelda fan, privately a brony.

Fingers callused from late night gaming,

his hair mussed under jauntily cocked fedora.

Meme references fall from his mouth onto the floor,

dead jokes swept away like forgotten dreams.


Rich girl, sporting Vera Bradley backpack and leather boots.

Probably owns a horse.

Pandora bracelet matches perfectly with sense of entitlement.

Mother makes dinner, goes to Chipotle instead.

Sips from Starbucks cup and stares vaguely into space.


Hipster (but don’t let him know).

Acoustic guitar, strums the same chord all the time.

Beanie protects head containing sensitive ego.

Dreary artist, ironic songwriter.

Probably would enjoy this poem. 



Seriously this is so awesome. Write forever and ever and never stop.

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