A shrug
A simple brush off
A slight bristle
Only visible
To those whose eyes
Work best in hind sight
Not that they care
Or that it bothers them
But you feel it
You sense it
You see it
Whether it is directed to you
Or project from you
A defense mechanism
Triggered by the malice
And hate
The judgement in this world
Is it your fault?
Or is it a product of your enviroment?
Are you the only one?
To suffer a loneliness forced on you
By the cruelty of your fellow man
To endure the burden caused
By indifference
Feigned or otherwise
As written by Shakespear
"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars…"
