The first stone

Difficult to talk through the barrier of respect transgressed.
You have to be a saint, maybe an idiot, to forget the insult.
Why do we destroy love?
We are nothing and we believe we are everything.
A finite machine of meat and bone. A set of ideas arranged with selfish whim.
Instinct of conservation.
He started the animosity, you followed the game. The mechanism warmed up. The game was burning. Enflaming the pride. Shout or shut up. Hurt or run. Attack or defend.
You want to win.
Both lose.
Must one always compete?
And the memory cannot forget, must not. The hurt stays inside. The rancour is controlled; hidden, an ember not extinguishing, waiting for fuel.
Who cast the first stone?