Warrior a la mode

Catch me at battlefield you bunch of killjoys
You dream assassins
Cursed entities
I’ll be ready!
Ready for anything you’ve prepared
The slander, the lies, the oh so not hushed whispers
The handshakes and middlefingers
The hugs that lead to a knife in my back
And the sweet loved churned sour
I’ll be ready for it all!
I got a fist full of grenades
And four utility belts
Each containing uniquely sharp and slaughter ready gadgets
Some of them are shrapnel filled,
All wrapped in container, explosive like Chinese new years
But I love to save those till the end
When you least expect it, I’ll be there
In the shadow of a shadow watching your shadow
Well hidden, silent in stealth,
Bloodlust in check, just about to leak from every pore of my being
I swear, if you ever thought you were safe
I’ll make sure to denounce your reassurance
So catch me at a battlefield
You bunch of killjoys
You gargoyles of disappointment
You mauled souls bleeding fetid resentment
I welcome you into open arms
Come meet me!
Come meet death