He's a magician.

Oh, how beautiful his illusions are;
His dashing, mesmerizing smirk;
Those colorful eyes;
His way at making what I see bend;
Capable of manipulating reality.

Pulling me in, as he motions his seductive scope;
Flawlessly choosing the next set of actions;
An awe-inducing thing, he is.

But he's also glass.

Cracked by his past;
Pretending that he healed so fast;
So fragile, and yet so strong too;
He could break if the pressures too much;
But he could take a bullet for you.

He's a glass magician.

Playing tricks with the fragile;
Although, he isn't any more agile;
His exotic motions and beautiful projections worthwhile;
But he's still on the verge of breaking;
You can see his body shaking;
Molding him back solid won't be realistic;
I wouldn't believe that he was ever like it.

For every angle, there's a new scene;
Formed by his ways and only his means;
He's sculpted by a world that lives life insane;
That's why he has cracks, cause he's formed by the pain.