He built a shield around himself
He sewed each detail, soft and real.
The perfect lie to hide behind,
And mend his wounds to heal. 

Yet as his wounds have faded,
And scars do take their place,
The shield still holds, so firm and strong
It covers up his face.

His eyes turn white form lack of sun
A smile is barely shown,
Yet on the shield a painted grin
That shines form dusk 'till dawn.

The shield has merged itself with him,
And he has let it do so.
He won't protest its constant coverage.
He's too a-feared to let go,

And so new wounds begin to form.
His heart is bleeding, his grin grows wider.
His loves stay as close as the shield will allow,
His friends don't detect any hint of a liar.

Perhaps this is what has maimed him the most;
He sewed it so well, so much care and gentile.
He has lost his friends, he has lost himself,
And he hasn't a clue what is real.