A Story of You and I

Always at the other's throat,

We curse and cut and snap,

Rambling on and on about who has it worse,

But when we step back and realize,

Wanting to destroy the person standing opposite,

Only serves to dig the stake in further,

Driving this human family apart,

Because at the end of it all,

On the Emergency Room floor,

Lying dead on the floor of a motel,

In the trenches of war,

Or in our souls and hearts and minds,

We all bleed the same blood.

But this takes a turn for the brighter,

Because among the violence is a peace walker,

A fighter of sorts, silently sitting, singing,

Strumming gently his old Martin guitar,

About changing times blowing in the wind,

And on the crowded city street,

He finishes his song, once and for all,

"We all bleed the same blood, yes, honey,

But despite it all, against the odds,

You and I will always be loved."