Waiting This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

   Even on the darkest night,

When my vision's useless and I blindly fight,

When my touch becomes my source of sight,

When I close my eyes so that I might

Remember when there last was light,

Even then, in my darkest hour,

When every teardrop tastes so sour,

When the weeds grow thick and the angels cower,

You are still a precious flower

Hiding within the darkest hole,

Grabbing at my sightless soul,

For as you came, my heart you stole,

And now it burns, like fiery coal,

For you to rise with a hidden rapture,

And come before me, that I might capture

What once was mine, but now you've taken,

A blushing heart, which once forsaken,

Must now be found, that I might awaken

From this dreadful dark that shrouds my eyes,

And my heart might beat with unbounding size,

For this I ask, for my sanity's sake,

Do return it and not a fake,

At this request, you must comply,

So you might help me dry mine eye,

Or if you choose, return your own,

So once again the light be known

To my humble and tarried self,

For emotional drain depletes my wealth

And brings about a waning health that

Must be cured by your own hand,

Till thence must I wait, that I might stand

On my own two feet, with no assistance,

My only hope is my persistence,

That I continue to await an answer,

To fight an illness worse than cancer,

This game you play, it soars my bones,

But my soul, though blind, is strong as stones,

And it persists, it will not die,

It will not fold and I will not cry.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

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