The Battle's First Kill Poem by Sandra Osborne

It was a hard fought kill
It was a treacherous,
Bloody slaughter.
And the mad dark creature
Wanted me dead,
It gnashed at me with its head
It gnawed at me with it’s teeth,
It tore, and slashed at my thigh
Leaving a gash of sweet flowing
Piercing pain.

I struck it back. I struck it with lust
I struck it with hate. I struck it with vengeance.
I struck it with loathing.

I pierced its writhing, withering head.
I struck it deep
I killed it true.

And now, standing in the sweetness
Of the evil creatures death,
I am pleased.
I am driven.
I am quested.
I will find its friends,
And they will die as bloody
And as true, and as dark,
And as swiftly as my sword
Can sever and pierce their black,
Evil, insect encrusted skulls.

I am the savior of my tribe,
I am the warrior princess of death,
I am the gods’ own vengeance
Upon the damned.
I am Champion. Slayer. Hunter.
The battle has been joined.