Manggis

Mysterious on the outside,

Green, purple, brownish and red,

A mystery you are, till your ugly skin is pressed and spread,

Like a diamond covered in a blood bounded ball,

White, pure, perfectly shaped in slices of eights,

And again a portrayal of the ugly side,

Sticky, foul, ill mannered, I contemplate,

Reminds me of a girl I used to date,

Sweet and memorable when the taste buds get a taste,

But more than often infested with insects and pests,

Most of the time only pleasant to the visible eyes,

Till the foulth hath gone into the mouth,

you realized you've misinterpret,

And just like a fly, you keep inviting yourself back again.