They whisper to each other

as they strut down the hall.

Throwing themselves against

the struggling who fight through

the throb of crowded passage way.

They're too good for the geeks in glasses,

too cool for the one's with an open mind.

Pushing forwards though the swarm

of rushing students hastening to class.

They can afford to stop and laugh

at the unfortunate and the needy

because life's superb for them,

so who cares if it's dreadful for you?

They whisper to each other,

strutting down the hall,

because he's just the king,

and she's just the queen.

But behind their backs

their enemies lurk and laugh.

They aren't as well loved

as they thought they were.