Cry

All that black,
where the white wants to be seen,
where the light and vision tries to break in,
or venture out,
when its boxed and locked up,
morally exhausted,
when fingers so broken,
they can't lift that blinding veil,
refuse to pry open that box,
no matter how hard we pray,
or try and try and try,
while all that blackness,
steals away all the white,
and all we really want to do,
is cry and cry and cry.