when we were children,
unimpressionable
innocent,
happy children,
the nature of a liar
were ill-behaved,
put to the corner
with their pants on fire.

when we were teens,
social lives
romance?
it struggles to
survive
an educational
stress in between
to lie was a sign
of betrayal and blight
one you could detect
from mere sight and reflect.
it was a feeling
a presence
that you avoided
for fear of getting hurt.
it was a waste of time.

when we grow older,
and the jar of cynicism
freezes colder
our definitions change
like leaves in the fall
for the upcoming winter's
frosty display
liars are what bring the bad
days.
it would never release
a more pungent beast
to see them lie to your face
on something that didn’t need to be said.
As adults
we learn to value honesty
Not as the cliched policy
But as a form of establishing communication
and trust in some way.
We feel like fools
when we’re used
abused
mistreated little tools
missing the detection
of a well-coifed liar.
Whether the excuse be
naivety or hopeless desire
Personally I’d rather die
Than to be caught
Or distraught
From something so simple
So easy
As a white lie.