A sleepless soul on a Friday night.

It strikes midnight.

The clock chimes.

Saturday morning.

Most people slumber,

Nobody to call.

In the house,

Darkness.

Seemingly not alone, but alone,

Tossing and turning.

A restless soul,

A lonely heart.

Like a madman starts singing.

A burst of energy.

The walls echo.

No applause.

A desperate gnawing at the heart of the soul.

The mind vibrates.

Snippets of the day haunts.

Ghosts of the past come a-visiting.

There is nothing to do but wait,

Till sleep comes and lessen the suffering.

Meanwhile, heart, mind and soul,

Twist together in anguish.