A scar, a cut and a flaw
that unlucky face that you saw.
those sad words that you read,
masking emotions in my head.

'Pretty Rude' and 'Unruly'
Never actually 'Yours truly'
With an aura of mystery.
That shell, that I carry.

'Who are you?' they ask.
And answering is a pitiful task.
To describe myself in a word I try.
'I'm Hamartia' I cry.