must__hide__identity

Ah, here it comes again, the bleeding anger that burns up my heart, and my hands, and my mouth and my forehead and my tongue. Don't you ever tell me again that the scars aren't there; they are there, they are killing me, and telling me otherwise robs me of my identity. Perhaps you don't know what it is to bleed? No? Then put your hand down because your turn to speak just hissed out the door; now is your time to listen.

I have shoveled the shit of others and groveled across the trails of a thousand existences. I have turned the searing heat to the hearts of the cold, lifeless corpses that littered my path. Far from loved, I have been despised. I have been hunted. I have been called the cold one. All this I have done for those that I care for, and I will do it for you.

I will still have my victory.

Hope rings eternal, but sometimes I wish she would just stop; give me a minute, let me breathe into my frame, and then you may again jingle your freaking bells until this despondent tabernacle of clay is again out of breath. But she doesn't listen; she has no ears, and she is no respecter of persons.

Today we must rest, for tomorrow we fight again. Am I not a champion? I have returned victorious from a battlefield a time or two in the past. Isn't a single decisive victory worth more than a handful of losses? Then tomorrow is still worth fighting for.

Ah, there it fades now, the anger is gone again. Perhaps it only visits to remind me to fight? I guess I can live with the scars.

Voodoo

I don't see anything in this, afraid to say.

Arin

I don't feel any connection with the character, nor do I see any kind of "story" in here. Sometimes in the same amount of words as you have, it can be established, so it's difficult for me to specify exactly what you need to make the reader actually care. For me, this is more of a description, a part of a bigger whole. Your language is engaging, but you need a picture to go with it.

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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!