The Mask and the Beast

The mask is cold,
It stifles, it smothers,
But the world is cruel,
It shields me from the others.

The mask is cold,
It stifles, it smothers,
But the mask is stable,
It hides me from the others.

“To feel sadness is weakness,
Depression is a failure of the will,
Despair is a lack of manliness.”
Yet these maladies plague me still.

Like the mateless wolf,
Into the night, I want to howl,
But none would hear the call,
So weakly, from the shadows I growl.

The Darkness stalks me,
I feel its cold breath upon my neck,
For the mask I reach,
But all the while, the Darkness infects.

“You are not alone,” they say,
“There are many among us the same way.”
This clutches at even greater fear, deep in my soul,
We are all drowning in the black waters without a lifeboat.

Red eyes stare at me from the shadows,
Fangs glistening in a sickening grin,
With every doubt, every fear it grows,
With every shout, every tear its kin.

We are hunted, you and I,
Everywhere with us it shall go,
Its aim is not for us to die,
But for us to wish it so.

“The mask! The mask shall save me!”
I cry in the face of the beast,
Aye, it hides my vulnerabilities,
From those who scorn,
But those who could remedy.

But the shield grows burdensome,
And I grow tiresome,
It offers calmness, stability,
But emptiness, futility,
In the balance hangs my sanity.

My blemishes are concealed,
But with them my true self,
Who I am, I can no longer tell,
Within this voluntary Hell.

The red eyes gleam at my confusion,
I can feel them even now,
My constant comrade now disillusion,
To fight it all, I know not how.

“To feel sadness is weakness,
Depression is a failure of the will,
Despair is a lack of manliness.”
Yet these maladies plague me still.

The mask cracked, I am lost,
Moments of happiness fleeting,
Without a purpose, without a cause,
I admit my defeat.

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