Cruelty.

Cruelty is thick in this world.  In the air, it'll choke you...and you wonder if you will ever breathe again.  It can blind you and make you question if you ever took a breath in the first place.  It is a relentless thing.  Completely unforgiving.  It'll coat every decision and every thought with doubt....with indecision and thoughtlessness...waiting for it's time to smother you with consequence.  It is every where you turn...it is in the face of hopelessness...in the faces of sorrow...dry from tears that can no longer fall. 
Cruelty is thick in this world.  It will trap you in time...cement your feet from escape and bind your hands.  No death to grant you mercy.  It chooses instead to preserve you, only to watch you fall to your knees and face humility over and over and over...until you beg for the things you once had, that you had so proudly discarded.  The dignity that you've now prostituted.  Once there was a time, before cruelty found you....where your feet walked proud and your arrogance was polished.  Now, with a face laying on the ground...the body heaving from sobbing...we beg for the things we once were too troubled to bother with.  It will trap you in your mind and hold short your tongue...so you may not speak the things in your thought.
Your lessons are taught. Alas, sweet Cruelty...I've nothing left to give and no other lessons can you teach.  Please leave me now.

I am not black letters on a white page.

There are some things in this life that are meant to remain unmeasured.  Some things do not quantitate, just as they shouldn't.  In such a desperate haste to fit everyone and every emotion, thought or idea into a category...we lose sight of the individual and the hell or brilliance that mind is experiencing.  We are too quick to write a note...black letters on a white page...stripping the life from the thing itself by deanimating it into...well, black letters on a white page.  Close the folder and file it in the shelf.
It takes a greater effort...a higher consciousness to accept an emotion without giving it a name...to validate it enough, to accept it...and understand that it is not incomplete or lacking simply because it isn't titled.