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.