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My Ode
People I’ve noticed are vile
Mewling and complaining about nothing
Unlike the one lovely and versatile
Person I find worth loving
Everyone manages to grate on my nerves
The human race I find pitiful
But this shining beacon is like a perfect hors d’oeuvre
Pondering this one’s perfection leaves me quizzical
Each putrid blob of a person
Finds their rancid personage imperial
Their filthy greed cannot worsen
The glowing of my seraphim, ethereal
This celestial work of art in place
Should be on display for others to see
So they may know the perfect curves of a face
That is worthy of matriarchal decree
The soothing mist of this Venus’ aura
Causes me to risk correction
I smile at her, opening the box of Pandora
I grin at my own reflection
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