Yes it’s true, your face is quite the train wreck
Your musk drives the molded cheese to envy.
Everywhere you go, people always check
To see the trail of rotting behind thee.

When some person asks, “paper or plastic?”
It is not a question meant for your goods.
For your features are often so drastic
That the public cries out your need for hoods.

Yet a midst the rotting grapes of your eyes
And the corn husk hair on your peeling face,
Lies a certain beauty found deep inside.
It turns all to compost, nourishing grace.

Bananas are sweet, even with dull skin.
Like how your true flavor, is found within.