Bruce Wayne,
known for his
loose change.
But the bat is,
so recluse and strange.
A metamorphosis,
through bruises and pain.

As a boy he died,
by his parents side.
From his silent mourn,
a shadow was born.

It all originated
from his willingness.
Where he fabricated
himself out of darkness.
As a demon all animated
he plays with madness.
Bodysuit all metal plated
fear and revenge incarnate.

Now Bruce is
his alter ego,
his other self,
his other I.
His true identity is,
the dark knight
the one who fights.
A watchful protector
a bat like specter.

But remember,
you either die a hero,
or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster . . . when you gaze long into the abyss the abyss also gazes into you

And he kills the last standing killer,
killing this Joke by pulling the trigger.
By doing so he brakes his own oath,
and death came and took them both.
Knight of Gotham is now terminated,
he made himself the villian he so hated.
Suddenly his stomach fills with laughter,
the punchline made him into the Joker.
Without honor the bat is mutilated,
the Batman who laughs is now created.

Ha Ha Ha Ha!

His hands are painted red,
his future’s painted black.
He can not recognize himself,
He have become someone else.
His hands are painted red,
no remorse for all the dead.