A sleepless soul on a Friday night.
It strikes
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.
|