The Last

Stumbling at the end of a
happy, jolly crowd, swept
along in the wake of their
fervor, and broken reject.
Can’t keep up with the rest,
A trembling mess inside,
Puts on a brave face, won’t
Let on how crushed they
Really are. They’ve been
Hurt, and horribly scarred.
Pretends they’re words
Don’t hurt, Left along they
Do naught but cry; and sleep.