This is my brother's poem about this classmate he hates.

He's very... Salty.

Oh my old friend, I forgot his exact name,

It seemed every day you just got all the fame.

You call me insults, like you call me cracker.

You say you have a girlfriend, you probably smack her.

You cut me in line just to suit your own pleasure,

And getting the last laugh is just your endless treasure.

You cheat in Four-Square, "Wait, what? No, it hit line."

But that isn't something that you easily define.

Your friends view you in a red-tinted, half broken glass.

And you get away with it all simply 'cause you have mass.

I hate you so much, I wish you would break your knee,

And I bet you actually just want your friends' D.

You make all these friends, but each one's just your slave,

And they excuse your behavior, and say "soon, he'll behave."

You and your friend, you both act like a tower,

You both keep on getting more sour and sour.

You think that I'll cower, you think you have power,

You think that you tower, but I think you need to shower.

You may look half-decent, but not your personality,

And to everyone, you're just a parasite in society.

You think I will end? Well you're wrong, I will not.

I also bet your supposed "girlfriend" is a thot.

Society is like a passage. An artery, a vein.

While you're just a blood clot, you only cause pain.

You just prevent people from doing what they should,

And don't say I'm gay for my friend, when you're just with boys, you dud.

You're just a ton of organs, piled up in a sack,

And you say you have a girlfriend 'cause it's what you lack.

If our class is a mansion, which is polished the best,

You're just a broken-down shack, with a little bit of zest.

You call me insults like it's nothing every day,

You call me in idiot, and you then call me gay.

Well I'm sorry I have friends that are actually genuine,

Instead of lying to look good, even in front of my own kin.

You tell on me when I say the slightest thing, you dang snitch,

While you insult me daily, I wish you'd die in a ditch.

Then you act all surprised when you also got in trouble,

For making a huge ruckus, you dense piece of rubble.

You call me a salty idiot, and you say I'm not feared,

But I see no reason for you to be praised at all, or endeared.

You're so annoying when you go "an I oop! Sksksk!"

So I've added to this poem just simply for kicksksk.