My Battle Ground

I come from a long line of Fighters.
If I had kept count, we would probably be around World War 35,
Everyone in my family stands their ground like different countries.
Occasionally an alliance is made,
And like any war
A treaty is made to hopefully
Resolve the problem.

My mother is Mussolini with a mushy side
Her opinions never back down
And she needs to have things her way.

I also come from a long line of diffusers.
I guess you could say that that
Is why my parents were married for 25 years
But like most wars, there is separation in the end.
Whether its between the losers and the winners,
Or between two allies.

My father is the United Nations
He lays down the law,
But will never actually run on to the front lines.

So everyone pulls out
Everything in their arsenal
And uses it at full force.
In the end everyone loses.
The next few days consisted of silence
And it’s not until a “treaty” was developed
That anyone was on the same team