Slytherin

by hobovill99

A poem on what it truly means to be a Slytherin. I may add a few more, but for now I hope you check out and enjoy the first one.

Slytherins

aren't just

snotty faces

and cruel words.

The Sorting Hat,

with its words of wisdom

and cowardice,

says we are

cunning.

Not evil,

though the

poor

naive

Hufflepuffs

would beg to differ.

Evil wizards,

evil witches

all come from Slytherin.

Or so the tiresome mouths

of the

Ravenclaws

say.

They come from

Slytherin

because

We are proud,

misunderstood,

bright.

We are not afraid to defy

what the pretty faces of

Gryffindor

call wrong,

immoral,

cruel,

disgusting.

We are not as smart

as Ravenclaw.

Though we put our brains

to better use.

We are not as brave

as Gryffindor.

But not as stupid

either.

We are not as kind

as Hufflepuff.

But, then again,

since when has kindness

gotten anyone

anywhere?

We are not as

pure,

as holy,

as white,

as Gryffindor

as Ravenclaw

as Hufflepuff.

Because

we

are

Slytherin.

Green and silver

and black.

The colors of our scarves.

The colors of our banners.

The colors of our hearts.

Author's note:

So, yeah. That happened.

This has been a poem that I've wanted to write for a while, because I honestly love everything about Harry Potter except for the fact that there are NO cool Slytherins. They don't have to be nice, they just don't have to be complete asswads either. I personally identify as more of a Ravenclaw, but I have a soft spot for Slytherin too.

Thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated (positive or negative)!