The Shrinking Potion

A snarl.
A grimace.
The quick roll of eyes
Sour, bitter.
Judging- elitist.
A shrinking potion
Which I am now doused in.
Slowly I wither
A crumbling sensation hitting my legs.
Why the poisonous glare?
What have I done?
Without a murmur
I scurry into my corner.
Puzzled, confused-
But mostly disheartened.