Tragic Poem by Genevieve Pilat

They call her a tragic beauty
Her allure like flawless gold
Yet inside her words have no depth
Her emotions dead and cold.

They call him a tragic follower
His love for her forlorn
For the passion in his heart was sealed with doomed fate
When he eternally was pierced by her thorn.

And then there is plain me
Fixated by his devotion so romantic
Who is fixated by her with her love nonexisting
...now who exactly here is tragic?