"When Will it Stop?"

"If you see me standing alone with my back against a wall; I am trying hard to look the part. I lean on one foot, one leg folded, one Chuck Taylor planted on the bricks behind me. Like a soldier, I square my shoulders, arms folded chin fixed and forward. Each bare knuckle hosts a scar, an episodic record of entanglements. My past has posed me this way, outside the margins, ready to die for respect. When we meet,if you lie like you know, I'll know, believe it. Detecting that which I consider "fake" keeps me alive. Real knows real and the world at large hates a hater."