Smoke and Mirrors

The masked crusader rides again,  
Hidden beneath a brilliant guise;  
A fictitious smile upon his face,  
Conceals the pain behind his troubled eyes.  

He rides along so silently,  
With a cool demeanor as a blind;  
From the war which rages violently,  
Deep inside his weary mind.  
 
But you could see it, couldn’t you?  
The pain behind his hazel eyes;  
Just beyond the smoke and mirrors,  
To the underlying truth that lies.  
 
As he rides his horse into the night,  
The man behind the mask revealed;  
The smoke and mirrors of his mind  
Lie carefully unconcealed...