The Worst Scar I've Ever Seen

You swore it was yours.
It wasn't.

It was a desperate
frown on a kid's face
after some prick
told him there is
no Santa Claus.
It was the instant loss
of innocence that can't
be undone by money.
It was the undying promise
of death given at reality's birth.
Once it's there
it's there for life.
You see it in their eyes.
Whose?
Everyone's.

(I've clearly injected
myself too much here.
How can one not
and have it be real?
Go with it for the sake
of the story.)

There are some things, ma'am
I'd rather not know
like if I'd enjoy Kentucky.
All the rumors you've heard
are frightfully true:
I'm a self-declared bastard
gallivanting down Main
as a martyr too eager
with a pen in his hand
and a gun at his hip.

There's no Easter Bunny either.