Connecting Dots

Connecting Dots
In the world of colors and lights
Are people born in deep darkness
Hidden and scrambled among us,
Unnoticed and untouched.
Never have seen a thing,
But appreciate the touch and feel
Of every petty object.
Though for'em too abject.
They feel personable.
We feel them insane,
Always clung to a cane.
Rarely look wistful,
For they achieve even the unseen.
Self-confidence is high within,
Though know the problem,
Between the ends is not so thin.
Never stop making efforts
And connecting the dots,
They grow feeble with age,
Worn out like an old page.
In the end, leave the world
Still in darkness,
The colors and lights are unseen.