Will I live to see a cure?
Or will I die right here?
Will they know I tried?
Even when it looked like I wasn’t?
Will they understand? what it was like not to eat when I was low
For fear that there may not be any more food for the next time.
Will they understand? That all the blood, and needles the highs the lows
Just wear you down, that at times you lose your will to fight.
Will they understand? That when their biggest worry is over family, work, money, friends and clothes
That a small part of me envies them? When my worries are how much insulin is left in the fridge
How many strips I have left, what about sites? And will I live to see past 30?
Will they understand? That I am thankful that they don’t have those worries
And that I pray they never do.
Will they understand? That when I die, it’s not that I didn’t love them, and didn’t want to stay
It’s just, I couldn’t fight any more.
I hope they understand,