My school is, I presume, just like any other primary school in
Australia. There is a playground, a swing set and a playground
bully.
There are the popular girls that strut around in their short, tight
skirts and their low, low shirts.
There are the rich;
They stick together like a swarm of angry ants, devouring
anything
Or anybody in their way.
They sit around, like royalty, they talk about how rich they are,
how rich their parents are and how rich their dogs are,
Because they can only own dogs,
Cats are for poor people
And fishes are for me,
If only I could afford them.
And then there are the not so rich;
They think they are high and mighty because they have
fabulously outstanding grades
And because they are better then everyone else.
They are better then the rich ants that just look down their noses
at the little folk,
But they are better then people lower then themselves on the
status quo because
They just are.
And then come the normal and the poor
And then there’s me.
This is the social hierarchy at our school. It includes all the
groups
From the short, tight skirts
To the Pokimon card traders,
If you think about it, our school is actually quite diverse. There is
a place for everyone, and everyone knows their place.