I don't own DC, or Batman or anything else.

When you were young

I remember when you were still soft.

Through my rose colored glasses

I see you young and filled with hope.

Your mouth not yet jaded,

And eyes without their angry gleam.

Now your posture is anticipating the next attack,

And your glaring face is ripping through them all.

You were still fighting back then.

It meant something,

You were going to save the world from the monsters.

But then you learned the world doesn't need saving from the bogeyman,

It needs salvation from itself,

The only kind it refuses to accept.

So know your fighting,

Not to save the world,

Not to save your sons,

Not to save your daughters,

Not to save your parents,

Not to save yourself,

But because you have forgotten how to stop.