Plastic Armor

Underneath every smile, every shape, every colorful piece of this flimsy excuse for armor, something sensitive, something disgusting, something that is mangled and torn, constantly finding a new way to twist into a fresh injury hides under. It sickens me to think that someone would have a core so sensitive, until I remember I, and many others, are made up of the most delicate of flesh, and I feel that it is wrong for me to judge someone for showing weakness, for showing weakness in the face of others is a most courageous thing to do. I do not have this courage, so I shall hide back in my shell until further notice.