A Heart Pumps Love, not Blood

I was born to fight, born to maim, born to feel pain.
I kill even when there is nothing to gain.
My blades forever bloody, my hands never clean.
Rumours fly that I will be crowned the next warrior queen.
I don’t spill blood for money, nor for recognition.
Death is simply a greeting I give to competition
An eternal fire for a soul, burning on despair.
Food a secondary fuel, the sight of blood as air.
Euphoric eyes flashing, severed heads rolling.
The only greater sensation is my own blood flowing.
Another war, another battle, entertainment, fun.
Toys will never have legs left to turn tail and run.
Through the crimson rain, my eyes passed over him.
Bored with the rest, I picked a fight on a whim.
There was a different sensation within our each passing glance.
A calm, a tune of serenity, that swirled within our deadly dance.
Locked in our clash of metal, we had eyes only for the other.
Somehow, in some way, he didn’t feel like a brother.
Days gone, can still see piercing eyes, feel a searching gaze.
Memory cannot reach when I last left home with no target to chase.
Falling into a world so strange, so warm, so full, so bright.
A place that I could never take, even with all my vicious might.
This land, painful with splendour, filled with gold and sun and sky and light.
This land, for once in this life, wouldn’t let me feel the urge to fight.
An exchange of words, a swift smile, getting closer day by day.
I, the offspring of wretched bloodlust, in this quiet place, wanted to stay.
I wanted to know more of the good that was my enemy for life.
I wanted to give more to the heir of our ancestors’ eternal strife.
I too, the heir, the destiny of my legacy, defy my world’s laws.
Even as I blame my own hatred for order, I know he is the cause.
Though I knew from the start, I wished we wouldn’t have to part.
Again I felt that precious pain, this time it was my heart.

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