First Blood

There are times when I see myself standing over a corpse
On a summer night, with the rain hitting my face, the wind
Blowing through my thigh-long hair, and the lightning going off in the distance.
I’m covered in blood,
Some is mine, but most of it is the corpse’s.
I’m exhausted, for the fight lasted an hour
An hour of intense fighting on this warm, damp night,
And I won because I used the two blades that I have always carried with me,
Now soaked in blood, dripping the red fluid into a pool at my feet.
I’m standing in a cesspool of blood, mud, and guts,
Because the person wouldn’t go down without a fight.
I decide to drink of the blood, because I want it, because I crave its exquisite taste.
After having my fill, with blood on my lips, flowing down my bare chest,
I’ll depart to find another, or even myself
(The inner demons have control of me)
That kill was just the beginning of my training,
Training to be an assassin,
One whom everyone will know and fear by name,
Because everyone fears the Darkness, and what it harbors.