It's why they prefer to wear masks,

as opposed to having the courage to ask:

"Do you hurt or help?"

They drink Trust-Issues without a flask;

like drunken beachgoers in sunlight, they'd rather bask

sunburned in them; then question others human condition;

judge with their head-voice piety

versus their heart's choice, Sin proclivities,

yet they've side-eyed me,

as if they are not equally broken,

ably led by ad hominem,

or maybe they're afraid to live wide-open... like, a poem.

They think I can't see them;

these men and women; their inner-child lost or beaten;

their unspoken opinion, as they see me comin',

inimical, hypocritical towards those who are not them...

They truly believe their true faces are hidden,

as they hurt and help, but that's the human condition...

A contradiction inside a desideratum oblivious to the conundrum...

It's why they prefer to wear masks.