Enemies at the gate

The scent of fear feeds their blood lust,
Their chopping fangs give up their thirst,
Driven mad by an insatiable hunger for pain,
Inflicted on others for their personal gain,
Wary of them I tread with care,
Of their schemes I am very aware,
For they exhibit very little thought,
With that I will never be distraught.

They dream to see me in chains both hands and feet,
Yet they will see only defeat,
They yearn to see me bloodies and in tears,
Yet with guile I overcome my fears,
They speak ill and evil to all,
Yet still I do not fall,
They prophesy a dismal end for me,
Yet I still stand and they can see.

The enemies gather at the gate,
In a frenzied state,
Slings and arrows aimed at me,
I fear not how this can be,
For we vanquish all foe,
Completely till they no more,
I pity them all,
As they meet my vengeance once and for all.