"Bloodlust"

With a crack of the rifle
I fly back into the firefight,
And dash into the bloody fields
Led by the screams and mortar-light.

My M16 rattles as I close on the front,
With grenades at my hips 
And a still in my heart,
I prepare for the onslaught
Where mind and body part.

Around this next bend the battle awaits,
Where mortals shall clash
With their guns and their Fates.
My first target waits and I let loose this rage,
Of metal and fire, and watch as he falls.
Then the battle-worn sergeant calls.

He calls for his army, he calls for his men,
He calls for the fury to summon this end,
He cries for the honor, to which we are bound,
And dies on the field from the wounds he had found. 

Enraged now the greater, we follow the order,
And charge with conviction to the fiery stage,
We let slip the fury and kill three of theirs.
But two of ours die; their screams fuel our rage.

I aim and I fire and see, with a grin,
As a helmet flees a skull now devoid of a chin.
The crimson, now found on each pebble and wall
Is mirrored on my cold heartless eyes.
As the foes whom my legions despise
Tally forth just to meet their demise
At the sight of these cold crimson eyes.

The charge has concluded, I stand here alone.
My friends behind me, dead, 
But at my feet and up ahead,
The bodies of my enemies inform me I am done.

Covered in blood, I pause and I breathe.
But hark, a grim sound now embraces my ear.
The clamor of footsteps, reinforcements are near,
The enemy comes before I take my leave.

But now I am immortal, made machine by the thrill
Of the fight and the death and the license to kill.
There's not a fear in my heart; only anger lies there.
A dozen to one...and they don't have a prayer.

Hear my roar and thou shalt know the bloodlust,
Run away and thou shalt suffer tomorrow.
Fear my focus like you would fear the reaper.
I, as the bullet, know nothing of sorrow.