Battle of the Ugly

Outside view, the outer case.
Shows platitude and calm grace.
Coiled down, inside and deep.
Hosts a battlefield for no one meek.

For within each person warfare lies.
Despair laden, a bitter size.
Between two armies, struggling feats.
To destroy the other and hold prize the streets.

Who are these two rival foes?
That clash forever to the sound of crows.
They show two sides, flip the coin.
To reveal ourselves, choose to join.

One grows in shadows depth; grim twisted vine,
Dark, gruesome, and yet disguised as fine wine.
It is not the side we yearn to embrace,
Yet willingly, we grasp its scarred face.

The other is a ball of shine.
Paints all vivid within its brine.
What we want, yet seems so out of reach.
To bring its truth alight in what we preach.

Together they fight; they twist, they crawl.
Worming ways through the brawl.
One to win, the other lose; victory to be the muse.
Balance lost, justice used; envelop us to different truths.

Chop the vine or toss the ball?
Is it right to not know wrong?
We can but wait to see.
What will emerge from inside of me.

The uglies cry, so fierce and strong.
Self righteousness, full of self wrong.
Beauties call but a whisper blowing south.
Wisdom weeps from its simple mouth.

Decision made, to take the stand.
Cacoon implied, not a brand.
Making room for victors march.
And march they shall with a soldiers arch.

And so we walk, full and bright.
Cascade aura of beauties might.
Ugly finished, over and done.
Roasted slowly, on the vine it spun.