Ghoul

They're tired. Exhausted, really.

Life's unfair, and they'd wallowed in hurt for so long that their sense of self has deteriorated. Only their natural inclination to the arts grants them comfort; in particular the melodies on the tongues of better-known dragons, bravely risen from the shadows to share their light with the world. They simultaneously long for such respect and fear the idea of so many eyes upon them. This conundrum is ignored, and the cycle begins anew. Who would even listen to them in the first place?

Look for them well beyond the fringes of a crowd. They do all they can to keep themselves hidden from sight, though sometimes they stick out like a sore thumb. They trust few and love fewer, focused more on protection than joy. Having sabotaged their personal growth, they can only do their best.

Pity it never feels like enough.