Jocks live for their personal glory, for when they catch a pass in the mist of fury. They are loud but there voices are empty, but the suffering they cause is nothing but plenty. There habits make them appear to be Apes, but Apes know when to spit out there grapes. They laugh and cheer, but never once will they show fear. They live only to please the ball, makes me wish a plague will destroy them all. Thru father and son they carry on there deeds, making them selfish and full of greed. The ladies follow them on their hands and knees, later wishing only to drown in the sea's. Their life is filled with conciet, if only they would take there seat. Ugly as sin is there soul, let it parish like the land of Gaul. They love to laugh at people for fun, for they are as glorified as the sun. The clothes they wear must be as perfect as there hair. For there rank to be held without share.
Reason for writing:
I was in study hall last May, and two jocks began picking on a kid who was about half there size. I thought nothing of it until I noticed the teacher laughing with them. It angered me, this kid had done nothing, and yet he took more punishment then most criminals. I always hated jocks, though even a few of my closest friends were among them, I have always prided myself that I never join people in picking on helpless others.Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by James Sawa "Babylon".