Tainted

Sometimes I feel tainted
Ruining everything I touch
My face, though pretty painted
Is vial, you should treat me such
Coral from the ocean,
Flowers from the earth.
All faded into nothing
when I was given birth.
Things I see so pretty
Beautiful in my eye
truly are the wreckage of
Their once sought after lust.
People, things and places,
once so clean and pure and fresh,
are now the shards of mirrors
My own looking glass
Even this, my own work
has no scheme or rhyme
Just a bunch of clumsy words
Put together at one time.

Looks like I'm finally feeling the poetry thing again... too bad it's sad.