Verdict

• Abigail Gregorio, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2014

Her hair looks weird. Her face is dumb.
The sight of her clothes, sends my optic nerves numb.
Baby blue bonnet- is this a masquerade?
His ‘muscles’ are flabby.- he’s to no-one’s aid.
Her makeup is orange- crisp line on her jaw.
The thought of her mind, makes my morals sore.
The teacher is loud. The teacher is stupid.
2 girls in the back, pathetic dreams about cupid.
Well he’s good at math - it’s his only tool.
Little does he know, he just looks like a fool.
My dear is that, what you’d call an ombré?
Obviously hair-styling, is not your forté.
You think you’re pretty? “You’re the ugliest creature.”
Oh no, she heard me. She’s calling the teacher.
Each step she takes, makes her look even worse.
Her arbitrary glasses, are her own little curse.
Opening her mouth, she screams her demands.
Asks of my name, then firmly she stands.
She stares, as I then reply; “Me?”
I stare her down stating:

Society.