My friend with 

depression and 

beautiful poems 

sits and makes sure 

that her friends 

are okay before checking 

herself. 

The one who will probably 

rule us all shakes 

everyone's hands 

and asks about their day.

The one with a diamond jaw 

and an awkward fidget

makes sporadic eye contact 

as we talk about superheroes.  

The tall boy doesn't say 

much to me. 

The small girl 

who smells like soap 

hugs me before chasing 

her friend down the hallway. 

The girl who people 

mistake for a boy has 

lots of friends, but a 

tired smile. 

There is a girl 

who I used to be friends 

with that sits in a corner 

with her earbuds in. 

She's watching hot 

guys on YouTube, determined 

that attractiveness and 

niceness are mutually exclsuive. 

The one with red 

hair keeps the peace. 

And me? 

Well, I flit around 

from group to group. 

I crack jokes and 

make fun of the boys. 

Sometimes I am 

not even there. 

I wonder if 

anyone would write 

about that.