An Ode to the Unattractive

Happiness is something that's mourned instead of loved Because in a small moment everything can turn to grief But to me hell is the thing that's up above Heaven would be boring, it’s only a belief What’s the point of living life’s cycle Of happy then sad, if you can’t find its grace For pain and death is something vital, Even flowers wilt in their vase. This is my ode to which I hold nearest Melancholy life is something beautiful and dearest. Nothing is ugly if you recognize the grotesque And the muddy fake beauty you’re meant to believe My thrown up organs are under my desk Life is a pain you can never relieve But it makes the flame burn good Deaths embrace cannot be told Accepting it is something you never could— Enjoy it until it's a memory you can’t hold Funeral bells will ring, and sprout from your skin Decomposing from the bin you stand in Highlight the ugly, the disturbing, and vile Create art from blood and distorted memories Forget your fear of staining hardwood tiles Imperfection is what makes interesting stories Remember this ode during your seven Consume your salty tears Never be afraid of making your own heaven Lived life is beyond your years This was my ode to which holds me nearest Life is something beautiful and dearest