Shade of Face

How do you suppose I dispose of this thing?
A disguise I despise so incredibly.

Lost in a search of a perch or a place,
where eyes can run wild in search of your face.

Through excess I express a wish to be sought,
A need to proceed to be what I am not.

Yet this mask I have cast from silver and stone,
has replaced empty space that was once flesh and bone.

The proof of the truth which once rested within
is beaming and screaming from under my skin.

What disgrace is this face of ready array,
when my shades of grey lead you astray?