I'm gonna change the angle I'm coming at this whole "Bad Goth Poetry" thing. You can be pretentious, too! And always, always self-obsessed. Yay!

Pity me,
the beautiful.
A beauty that draws me
so far away.
Standing now so calm
and awesomely still,
past even the state of cold.

Pity me,
the beautiful,
for in this perfection,
I have lost traces of humanity.
The ability for passion
and thought
and love,
leaving me alone
in this beautiful shell.

Okay, so that's a shorty and a quicky. I had the first four lines in a story I wrote quite a while back, as the opening of a song performed by Hopefully Wednesday (Mike and I make a habit of making up band names!), and I decided it was high time to finish. So yes, more Bad Goth Poetry (insert ominous sounding music here), in a completely different vain. (Vein?)