The Sixth Sword

The sword I hold is simple,
each swing often denied,
My shield can push away,
It's easier if I can hide.

I hold on to the apathy
not wanting to let it show,
In the dark, without a clue
using words, unsure I know.

I grasp with naive hand,
brush it off with a shrug,
Careless is the dreamer
whose mind acts as a thug.

Repellent in appearance,
Relate what others say,
Distant where I remain
passive throughout the day.

Oblivious in the other hand,
dense with bouts of fear,
Afraid of conversation,
easygoing, nowhere near.

I let go the metal handle,
give up the social fight,
In comfort where I can rest
alone, hidden from sight.