Our Fight is Over

You and me have a history,
To you I have been cruel,
To me you have been determined,
That of me you would make a fool.
You have been prodigious in your efforts,
Rumours have been spread,
And I have cut you down so often,
The memories hurt my head.
But let's put that in the past,
That's where it deserves to be,
Come, accept this drink,
You look so parched and thirsty.
And as you slake your thirst,
Safe that our fight is done,
Know that your drink was poisoned,
And that I've finally won.

We live on 5 acres and have a weed that had taken over. It has taken me six moths of cutting, burning and poisoning to control it. However, I spent two hours yesterday poisoning any new growth. It is the growing season for the weed, but it's quite dry at the moment. Thus, the weeds look quite thirsty. As I was poisoning them I thought, "If I was the weed I'd see me coming and cringe, only to get a drink. Perhaps the weed thinks I'm finally being nice to its kind, when in fact I'm still trying to kill it." There you go.