Prose

There's a thing to be said when you're the first one in a room. You take a seat and then slowly, in drips and drabs the other people come in. You sit there for some time, waiting for others to sit beside you, and slowly the room gets filled but.
But you are left alone. The closest person is a seat away. What did you do? You know these people, some of them are your friends, but. But, that is it. Always it. No one. Left. Alone. Did you do anything? What does your rational mind tell you? What do these words of prose poetic verse that sounds more like a ramble, but is in fact a deep-seated, emotionally-charged, betrayal-fueled, self-loathing, whisper of text and meaning.