The chairs scrape against the cold
tile floor, the trays are placed into
the rack, voices of laughter bounce off
the walls.
The abandoned milk jugs; half empty or half full.
They are my only company, along with the silent
empty chairs and the cold hearted bare table.
Soon the voices have left, the laughter
has died, and the chairs are pushed
into place; I am alone.
Walking out the door without a soul to speak or
a hand to hand to hold. Looking around
you may see a crowd of people but
one girl stands a part from the rest.
She is hidden behind a veil of hair
looking down at a pen, and paper
afraid to meet a room of judging
stares.
The bell rings, the locker
doors echo in the halls, the voices
fade everyone going home but I
even in a crowd am alone.

