Crudus.

I am attacked by my own pretensions.
My own apprehensions
Apprehend me
In a web of quiet withdrawal.
I sit and my heart bleeds.
Seeds of that old enemy sprout themselves again.
You don't share your headphones with me.
You don't even look at me.
Am I really that despicable
That I cannot be afforded
Even one look?
You shook me to my core with your
Heart-quaking words,
And you don't even stop for a moment
To help me pick up the pieces.