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.