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I shall sing for the ugly woman

I will sing for the ugly lady, for it is she that nobody ever sees fit to sing for. She has learnt to be pretty on the inside to compensate for what she never had on the outside. When time goes by and age catches up, the pretty outside will be turned on its head but the inside shall remain. The ugly woman I know is like a green fruit tree. Trees with ripe yellow fruits shed them off when a slight breeze passes by. A tree with green fruits will never yield to the wind unless it breaks her branches. I shall sing for that woman who will remain standing when the storm has abated, for she has learnt to be strong in her inadequacies. A dumpsite can never be glorified, but we always forget how much we need it. A sewer is treated with uttermost disgust but we need it more than we do the swimming pool.
I shall sing for the ugly lady who finds herself when night comes, for it is she that owns the moon. I shall sing for the ugly lady, for it is she who cries hard every night before she goes to bed, for it is she who nurses a broken heart in the place of a child. I shall sing for the ugly lady, for it is she who never has the guts to speak out what she feels, for it is she who writes a love letter, her eyes blurry with tears and her mind foggy with strong emotions. I will pat her back, and let her cry onto my shoulder, for there is nobody out there to let her do that. I will sit by her bed and help her count sheep till dreams come calling, for it is there she finds herself, for it is in her dreams where she is never judged. I shall sing for the ugly woman, so she can dance to the tune of the guitar and make merry to the sweet operas that will fill her heart with nostalgia and thoughts of the past. I shall take her out and teach her how to run in the rain. I shall teach her how to skip in the sun. I shall make her reach for the rainbow.
I shall sing for the ugly woman, for it is she who has always learnt to hide. I shall show her that tears only ruin her face. I shall teach her that it is okay to be weak once in a while but not all the while. I shall teach her to believe and to live. I shall teach her to sing and to fly, I shall teach her to fall and to stand. I shall sing for the ugly woman, and tell her how beautiful she looks in the setting sun. I shall tell her how well she fits on the background picture on my wall. I shall teach her to believe again, for what is ugly but just a state of mind? What is ugly but just the prejudice of a myopic eye? I shall sing for the ugly lady, and tell her the beholder’s eye love to see her every morning and she does not have to cry every evening, for she will find him at the doorstep, a guitar in hand and he will sing till the sun goes down, and till she falls asleep in his soft arms. For what is ugly, but the disposition of imperfect minds and unsatisfied souls?

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