Can I cry?

Am I allowed to cry? To release the pain seeped deep within my aching head and weary heart? Am I allowed to cry? For the dreams that slipped through my grasp, like water between my fingers. No sign of their presence left upon the shore? Am I allowed to cry? For the days when all I could feel was despair and a deep sense of hopelessness? Am I allowed to cry? For the nights spent alone staring up at the ceiling, wishing for a hand to hold and the sweet embrace of someone who truly cared? Am I allowed to cry? For the world that seems intent on breaking my spirit and ripping my hope, as if it were nothing more than fragile parchment? Am I allowed to cry? For myself? For who I was, for who I am, for who I could have been? Am I allowed to cry? For the life that I had imagined. For the moments, that never came?