Cheerleaders are too perky,
they’re the Patty Simcox’s of the world
known for abnoxious smiles with loud, blistering cheers.
The team spirit of the dungeonous school,
leaders of the infamous pep rally extravanganza.
Cheerleaders are witches,
they’re the mean girls in the halls
designed to call out the underdog
who ends up with the star quarterback, the irony of it all.
Football players are cinematically programmed to date the evil captain
though that is rarely the case these days.
Cheerleaders are committed,
they’re the ones who deal with draconious coaches,
refusing to allow their flyer to fall through the air
even if the weight of the world stands just above their heads.
Those who are present alongside the football players each and every game.
Cheerleaders are strong,
The ones who lift lives in the air with only two hands
for a two-and-a-half minute routine.
With rock hard abs and toned biceps
buldging through their tight, innapropriate uniforms.
Lifting just as much weight as men in the gym, except holding it a little longer.
Cheerleaders are judged
by people who don’t know how to handle insecurity. Stereotypes exist because the people who
created harsh opinions can’t run two miles a day or
hurl themselves into the air or
jump so high that their hips hyper-extend or
scream until they’ve lost their voice.
But cheerleaders will be cheerleaders.
After all, I am too perky.