He is

A man comes built with two things

Pride, so that he may have something of worth to hold on to, and

A heart to feel, feel all that the wretched world of men has to offer.

He is fashioned to use his pride as a sword. A tool to cut beyond the veil of impossibility
His heart, a shield to protect all that he values.

And when his sword dents, for his pride will soon be when he meets an obstacle in battle,
He won't be left with a sharp edge.  Only shame.
Which by the sharpening of, he shall overcome.

But when his shield shatters, he is made handicapped. Unable to craft another, he is left partially helpless.
His only choice, a specialist, a healer.
Only by whom, he shall rise up boldly anew.

His dignity he may recover,
But his heart needs a surgeon.