I was a feisty fisted lad
who'd fight at the dropp of a hat.
With something to prove I'd blazon on
regardless of this, or that.
My tempered sword was always drawn
more often than my pen.
With something to prove I'd blazon on
not caring for why, or when.
Late in the day I sheathed my sword
to pick up my unused pen.
With nothing to prove I must concede
it's easier now, than then.
jerry hughes
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/argument-resolved/