Berserker

Berserker,
Where does your blood flow?

In your mass savagery,
Crazed with passion,
It streams within.

Berserker,
What do you kill for?

Splitting flesh asunder,
In a foreign name,
Your rage quenches all.

Berserker,
Your Vikings have fled,
And your enemies have charged,
With lust in their eyes.

Berserker,
What will you do?

Cling with trembling hands,
Veins bulging,
To a scrap of life?

Berserker,
You are ill prepared,
For death.