My blade is sharper, so they claim.
And his hoe is blunt.
Each voice raised is struggling to rise above the noise,
eyeing for supremacy,
living to convince,
competing for dominance,
quarreling to belittle, demean, and degrade.
I found that armchair broken and fixed it.
The chicken you ate when you paid your dowry was mine.
So it goes.
But both are travelers.
Come harvest time,...
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