Quiet night in,

Alone but not alone.


I switch on the telly,

My family is around somewhere but they don’t get me.


The bulb is on,

But I’m covered by a thick cloud of darkness.


Then come the demonic whispers,

They call into my ears.


They control my fingers,

Open my soul.


Snap Chat, Instagram, Facebook.

Where are they all?


On a Saturday Night,

Without me.


No invite,

No call.


They party and drink,

They laugh and dance.


They share,

But with everyone apart from me.


Monday comes and they tell their tales,

And I am left alone.


I have no stories,

I have not lived a life to have any.


And that is not always my fault,

Sometimes all they need to do is reach out.


But they do not notice,

Do not realise how they pain me.


It is not really their fault,

It’s really mine.


I know it is.

Always is – how could I not have seen it before?


They’re out living their Saturday Nights,

And I am left to die inside on mine.

Oh those ever-dreaded nights,

Those ever-dreaded Saturday Nights.