The sun peeks out from behind the trees
Casting light on broken horns atop a mess of hair.

Battle worn armor. Dented and scratched
Bandaged and Bloodied fists hanging at my sides.

My hammer resting,
In a glistening in a pool of blood.
Whispering silently to me.
I am not safe here.

My shield embedded in a tree.
It's cracks more prevalent...
Strange
It was supposed to be my gaurd.
Yet here it is
Half buried in a tree
Like it was trying to flee from battle before me.

A new dawn is breaking.
My bones are aching.
My muscles screaming

I reach for my horns, thinking they're whole again.
I didn't know they'd break and never grow back. Now only jagged pieces of bone jut out from my flesh.

I guess that's why I was named devil all those years ago. I am something haunting to look at "as ugly as sin." Some would whisper.

So many fights through those haunted nights.
Each dawn the same following the bloodshed the night brought.

Why was I named devil. I'm not evil like the wraiths that come for me at night.