The soldier who wields a lighter sword is he not covering for his lack of strength? yet he is praised for his understanding of battle and allowed to compensate his arm to such lengths
The painter who paints life as it stands still does he not show his lack of imagination? yet he is praised for his forthright abilities showing the world his mundane interpretation
The musician who bends the strings to his will he is good, but can he dance or is his voice too shrill? yet here he is treated like a god for his guts and his sweat and his need for a thrill
But a man who is lonely, broken, or worn puts on a smile, his handshake is warm and yet the others laugh, they point, they scorn "Your façade is fake, you fool," they say "the only one you're fooling is yourself," they claim
But a façade is a shield, a crutch if you may to attempt to deflect the hate that they spray it allows your wounds to heal below and keep sympathy, scorn, and disgust away and if it works, and it does, they'll never know it was all just a lie, a façade, you had shown