He is a man of FEAR hiding behind a Mask of THORNS, treading softly through corridors of silence, where whispers echo like ghosts. His heart is a secret diary with pages torn.

In the mirror, he sees fragments of a boy, eyes heavy with untold stories, lips sealed with the weight of unshed tears, and hands clenching dreams that dare not soar.

Each step is a careful dance, a choreography of caution and disguise. He is the shadow in the corner of the room, the invisible ink in a book of lies.

He paints on a smile, bright as summer dawn, but...