Going Blind Poem by Nikita Cheney

The pain is growing stronger still
It's hell-bent course is almost run
And try as I may with all my will
Won't see too many more a rising sun.

It courses through my veins
I feel all its malintent
To cause my sad untimely death
Is the path on which it is so bent
No prayer on high or mercies cry
Would stay it's cruel cold Wicked blade
For in my mind and in my soul it's Mark it has already made

So when I'm gone do not Lament
Just be glad that I am free
Finally free from blinding pain
Which all my life has tortured me