He is always the loud guy.
He is always the life of the party.
He looked like he never had a care in the world.
Yet, there he was, bawling.

He believed in the good in all people,
He felt compassion in living.
He loved, and was loved.
Yet, there he was, alone.

He fears what may happen,
If they find out his truth;
His conscience screams,
His thoughts chastising him.

He feared that his bare skin would be stripped,
His picture-perfect smile, unmasked,
His face unhinged from his "pride",
His aims be nothing but dust.

He hides through his words,
His adamance, growing brittler,
The taste on his mouth, turning bitter,
As he leaves his nonsensical words unfinished.