Reflections by the blind.

[awwlie]

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.

.

I began to write poems when in my youth.

I asked myself, why I wrote these poems.

I never could answer that.

.

I let you down, didn't I sister?

I told you of my dreams, ambitions.

I chased them like a starving fox chases prey.

d.

Told they did,

'you'll never amount to anything, please do not chase these foolish dreams!'

.

I brushed past their judgement, their wishes to protect me like a diamond.

In truth their words faded and my mind created anew.

They worried for me, held me close; while I pushed them away.

I wonder now.. where they are now,

My sister.. my parents.

Does it even matter?

I've left myself to wonder that, all alone.

One day I will learn.

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[awwlie]

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I sit here late at night thinking,

is it all worth inking.

Books crowd like ghosts by my side,

their spines shut tight to my lack of sight.

.

.

One day —

I'll wake up,

see that my world is all paid up.

. 

. 

Maybe —

on that day,

I'll figure out myself at decay,

and not just as an Omen of Burden..

.

[awwlie]

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I feel the need to be different,

to act someone else, who I am not but all ways dignant.

I want to be like the ones I once saw so benignant,

offer my tears, sweat, heart for one decent.

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They'll look at me they see a beggar,

not one crying for help, but one lost forever.

I'd ask for help but fear I'd be shrugged aside,

perhaps that's why I am content and cried last night.

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There's no telling how long I'll last,

build a story of how I lost my past.

See the plans I made fall and turn to ash,

all the while wish I could've struck someone and made a slash.