In the forest of the half-dead...Mature

Goths, emos, punks - the usual stereotypes

Smartarses, nerds - those who speak a load of shite

Star Wars fans, Trekkies - people who need to get a life

Chavs, EDL and idiots - the carriers of knives

Pretty boys, pretty girls - the incredibly fake mob

Middle-class prats normally called Mercedes or Rob

Actors and dancers - the self-pretentious pricks

The Facebook generation - LOL, LMAO and that is well sick

There are those who tweet and those who Skype

Their brains are slower than the fingers that type

Posers whom take off their tops at every interlude

The sickly teenagers with acne - vile and crude

The alternative crowd with their hair bright pink

With holes through their ears - what do they think?

The hip crew with their trousers half way down their arse

When you see their clothing, it looks such a farce

Sporty ones flash their muscles, emos flash their cuts

That one weirdo whose mind is full of smut

You almost feel sorry for him - the one with no mates

However, he licks your ear - that seals his fate


And then there's me, what can I say?

Well that's for another poem on another day.

The End

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