The mask is greater than the man.

Sitting motionless and colorless, you wouldn't dare guess he's fearless
when hiding behind two holes and a nose
He sits a very scared little man.

An anxious and weak, small man.
A man who can't look his server in the eye,
A man who sits nervously on the subway,
The same man that convinces himself five times that he has in fact locked his front door, regardless of the seven times he's checked before.

He's lonely.
Lonelier than the budding flower with no one to enjoy it's beauty
Lonelier than the naïve, bopping teen that truly thought she was loved deeply.

But the disguise he wears keeps him company in dark times.
It reminds him that victims cannot poke fun when you have already poked the victim.

Warm bloodstreams pour from their wounds, soothing the hidden man's very own wounds.

His mask allows him to be free,
even when it's the very thing that keeps him chained.

They say anyone can put on a façade,
but very few men are greater than the mask.