Sometimes I forget about those who are near
simply out of fear, for I become too engrossed
in feeling so morose and sorry for myself
I've figuratively put my companions on a shelf,
stored on tiny pedastals that remind me of their wealth,
but I can't seem to breathe in this suffocating mess,
nor can I call upon those who I view are the best
when I feel so small and so disconnected
with the rest of my blood I've rejected