A cold, dark dream

I'm a travelling antithesis, mortal and eternal,
On the move 'tween destinations various,
I've met persons irritating, ex infernis,
And boring souls much too pious;

I've seen people wear many a mask,
To hide their inner selves from others,
But as you go deeper into their minds, the task
Of the masks, it seems, is to hide from themselves;

I wore a mask myself, many a times,
Often, I put one on, ostensibly without cause,
As I write down one of many rhyming lines,
To convey my feels, though not always for applause;

My mask saves me from the pain,
From which my poems flow,
At times there is pleasure in a loss, more than gain,
And the fears within me grow;

They protect me, for at times I am empathic,
To some degree, I suffer with another,
As thoughts, some psychotic,
Mingle with futility, as streams of water;

Some don't mind me,
Frittering about, Doing as I wish,
Others abhor me, refuse to see
My motives, they'd sooner want me falling in an abyss;

But they are souls entitled
To beliefs, their own - I hope,
And I shall leave them to their shells rattled,
And set off into the dark beyond.