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Like wolves waiting to devour.
My enemies have seen my wounds.
And they are at thirst for my blood.
But their bellies hungers even more for my flesh.
My afflictions deludes them.
They believe I'm an inevitable prey.
Do they not know
That warriors are born to bleed of war!
Casualties are expected in the heart of combat.
Yet, divine Grace makes the sting of death behave,
While being in the midst of its snares.
My enemies are depraved fools...
The wounds that they believe to see,
Are only scars that I wear with dignity,
Like badges of honor.
And my skin... is my pride... I still survive.
So, as they watch and wait
To taste the spill of my blood.
Their famine... will be their own demise.
The hunters...
Have now become the hunted!
-Jen'uwin Mor
