I am tragedy,
and i carry it with me wherever I go.
I am lost and alone,
at home and in crowds.
Pin ****** on goose-pimpled skin,
barely visible to the well dressed eye,
and less so to the naked.
I am the hopelessness you thought you'd escaped.
I wither with each day,
growing younger,
full of potential to waste.
Full of the potential desire
to finish this cruel tale,
I know now where it is going,
I get bored easily,
and such a story as this
hardly seems worth my time anymore.