He is always alone, but not in his head. But for the things that he's seen, and the things he has said.
He was always the last to be picked for the teams, alone til the end, except in his dreams.  
He's silent now, for the moment at least, fearful of the day he will face the Beast.
He sobs and cries and says it's unfair. When the one he loved left, his mind fell to despair.
His heart is now spent, his bones feel weak.
His life is full torment, he lets out a shriek.
He muffles the screams, for all that they've done to him, while he pulls at the seams of his incised limb.
He hears them all shouting, day in and day out; He sees them all scowling, hissing, "There isn't a doubt."
He says he didn't do it, in fact he is blameless. They asked for the culprit, but he said they were nameless.
His date was announced, set in cement. Nobody attempted to denounce this judgement.
He was lead to the chair, down the last mile. He said "It's a nightmare, I'll wake up and I'll smile."
He shouted, "I loved her!" as the guards strapped him in. This claim did little to deter, in truth one flashed him a grin.
He heard the guard whisper, "Now don't be afraid, she would have lived if only she'd stayed."
His skin felt cold, his heart was racing. What was he just told, just who was he facing?
He could no longer see the guard's expression, you'd think he'd feel glee at the guard's confession.
He saw the needle slide under his skin, now he would surely be excused of his sin.
He awoke on the floor, not in a cell. Just one more night that he'd been dragged through Hell.
His love was still gone, his heart was still broken. But now he thanked God to at least have awoken.