Our immediate discomfort always feels so wrong Aren’t we all meant to get along? It starts as simply as the set of their jaw Before long it’s their toneless guffaw Then their mere presence becomes an intense irritant And you fight to suppress your instinct to be militant Forget the initial dislike that began to percolate Now you fight for control as you hyperventilate Digging deep for composure you seek compromise But then you recognise the mutuality of warrior steel in their eyes You know they know What to do; step away or let it be so?