I wrote a poem to my Type 1...
The house is dark, but he's still there
He reaches out, he doesn't care
He hides his face, for all to see
But no-one spots him... only me.
He whispers to me, don't you dare
He spies the problems, sets his snare
With needles sharp and numbers high
He makes me pause and wonder why.
In darkness deep or morning light
He tests my strength, provokes the fight
While sweetness swings like ocean waves
Demanding all the care he craves.
Through birthdays, parties, work and play
He never takes a holiday
A shadow cast on every meal
Reminding me that he is real.
When others sleep, he wakes me still
An offering I must fulfill
But though he brings both pain and strife
He's taught me how to value life.
He's always with me, tho' no friend
He'll be there with me, 'til the end.