life.

day in day out,
a trek through the wilderness
of life, threaded without sign or clue.
lost in the very heads of maybe or if,
the very thoughts strain their myths,
like surreal dreams they dance and play,
beyond blurry darkness, they lift
the mood, making it gay.
of course for the thought to count,
the nightmare must return to sea,
sunk'd and buried, stiff and blunted
and inaccessible to thee.
yet, the nightmare is real.
it is reality,
the dream can only fade...
so day in day out,
a mask is worn on the journey,
it protects the scars from further harm,
the wearer from the gourney,
from the fluid that embalms.
he becomes cold and distant,
it is the mask he wears.
misunderstood and forgotten, a silent war is there,
and the weight of his world he bears.
a tear falls down his cheek,
first of many like rain will fall,
all hidden by his great mask.
will they ever see in at all?