The Warrior Berserk

The first part in an idea to outline the general class/types in most fantasy war fictions. I grew bored after I did the archer.

O swift fury, how does your blade fall?
Pendulous razor, can you not stay content?
My soul blood slashed, I can not recall
Visions of grandeur, dellusions of golden fields
Planted in my hand is the forsaken rage
A candle's dancing flame, a token of passion
Channels pump with sanguine liquid
Forcing through intricacies
A labrynth of humanity, stemming from the globe
Painfull memories rise forth, unbeknownst
Swing now, swift fury! I know now where your blade will fall
And such a razor is no longer of the pendulous nature!
Guided by a life so lusted
Mortality connects to end it's doppleganger
A spray of crimson victory coats
Sheathe thyself swift fury,
Your wishes be fulfilled.