They’ve got axes to grind,
but I’ve given up mine
Those edges worn brittle
Thinned and whittled down with anger
Chipped and Damaged
Swinging not caring who they cut.
Isn’t it enough already?
Double-bladed exchanges full of hate
Each believing they know more of love.
Whet stones shedding sparks
Starting fires the rest of us have to try to put out.
Compromise on something other than your ethics
For the sake of the rest of us
Bury the hatchet.