The Thrill of the Hunt

The thrill of the hunt is like nothing you've felt,
your blood's on fire and fear melts.
Adrenaline running through your veins,
like ice water trying to quench the flame.
A predator in the shadows forever changed, a beast ruled by rage.
Pleasure he finds only from bloods crimson haze,
watching the light slowly fade.

Drove to madness violence he craves,
pushed to the edge, shoved away.
Thought weak and left to cry,
something snapped deep inside.
Fear they feel from the cold in his eyes,
helpless no more, awoken the beast inside.
Cruelty and resentment rule him no more,
he enjoys the cold sharp steel of war.
Hardened and cold,
the innocence of life he no longer holds,
but to strength and speed,
the maddening pleasure when his foes bleed and scream.
A beast in all but name,
lost in the darkness of hate and pain.

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