Our futile attempts to open a pair of unseeing and pure eyes,

filled to the brim with naivety, we choose to believe in such lies,

our posterity can only observe the  visions of the blind,

through a blanket of fog, they forget the prototype behind,

tugging on the same side, a vast trail of rope,

an asymmetrical balance, we disguise it as hope,

refusal to leave the dark, into a new world of light,

eyes still closed, a whimsical choice, blinded without sight,

our hands interlock with unknown things, because we can only feel,

we hear the silence, we see the darkness, so is our existence real?

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A simple poem, which I hope is effective. :)