A Mask
Solitude behind the disguise.
Displaced smiles,
we see only in eyes.
Will we ever reach out
to each other in friendship?
Or will fear guide our hands to our sides?
Necessary distance,
alone in a spaced out crowd.
Walking hurried, no time.
Safety in isolation.
Contact no longer needed,
in keeping with the paradigm
Fear in high numbers
greatly denied for a moment,
placated with guarantees.
Denied closeness,
weeping for our past.
Do we invite to death's door to appease?
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