she calls herself a scapegoat
to give herself a reason
to be this sad,
so full of doubt.
too much to live up to,
no way to figure out-

that poor kid,
she'd been better off a realist;
she's no martyr,
just another lost idealist.

she's got no charm to get her out of the house.
she's got no smile to win over the crowds.
just a half empty glass
and half a cigarette
in an empty bar
in a forgot' hamlet.