In-growing show nail.

The young they whoop, wail and weep with the crowd, all together in drink but secretly apart.
Bravado is key, important they feel a part.
Inside the group, safe and free sing aloud, ask whatever. It’s simple, they’re never apart.
It’s clear I see a hidden version of someone long from heart, but forgotten.
Yet is that bond we all observe really true? Inside of them and inside of you?
Will they soon covet a fresh, a new, a second, a third, a fourth start?
Herein lies a doubt, a nagging doubt, yet we are never allowed to see and we will never be allowed to be a part.