People say a fighter is born

That certain people are meant to battle the world

For they were born to hold the grief in their blood

And the spirit of the warrior is reborn

Such an odd thing to think

Yet people call me a fighter as the cheer me on

Prompting my rage with their howling

As I pick myself up once more

Clashing against my opponent as I scream to the heavens

For they created me didn’t they

Molded me into their perfect solider

Trading my serenity for warfare

Was it fate that created me

Or was it by my own hands

I must continue on this quarrel against my enemies

I have traded peace for a portrait of blood

For I am an artist

It is on the panel of violence I create

Tell me destiny

Am I fighter because I fight

Or do I fight because I am a fighter

Was I born this way or did I choose this path

Was the weapon created or forged

How do I know what my choices are

When all that I know is to fight

Am I forced into this life or did I choose it

Please tell the fates to slow down

For I am a mortal desperate to live

And when you see me coated in death

Know my soul has bared the stain to live on

As the crowd roars on

I can feel destiny holding me

I will not loose this brawl

Life is not done with me yet

For I refuse to be another artist destroyed by their craft