Armed.
I will kill, steal, and slaughter.
All necessary actions against the enemies I stand against.
I will give my last ever-loving breath in this battle.
I will ride, bare or wrapped in chainmail,
With banner torn and tattered.
I will find the heart of the opposition and take him last,
Following the demise of his servants before his eyes.
Doubt, I think, shall be the first to meet his end.
Once done, I’ll turn slowly to Infidelity and watch him cower
Before providing stringent relief to his fears and satisfaction to my whims.
Jealousy, then, is next, just before Mistrust, Hatred, Past, and Vice.
In one fell swoop or an agonizing ten,
I will fight until that victorious, or bitterly joyous end
So that only my Love for you is left standing.
