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?