Writing in the Dark

The sun shines everyday

 the clock ticks one second ahead to the future

There are millions of reasons to smile

  to love

  to be happy

But somehow there is a lens on the view I see

I’m trying to write my story

 but it feels like I am writing in the dark

I feel the pen in my hand,

 the paper on the table.

I understand the words I write

  I feel the curve and flow of

  the letter L

  the wave of an i

  the infinity movement of an f

  and a wider wave of an e

But how do I go back to dot the i?

Are my letters straight on the page,

  spaced accordingly?

Or does the words I write scrunch together

 unable to expand and breathe

 a muddled mess of lines?

I wonder if the path of my  words slant up or down?

A story that looks like

I dropped a box of magnets poetry pieces

  onto the paper

I know that I can smile today, but I’m

 writing in the dark

I have never found the switch to enlighten my room

Or found the window shades

 to pull back the curtains

 to see the beauty of the world

And no one seems to know I’m in here

writing in the dark