A/N: So I wrote this during World History while we were watching a video about drunk elephants. I got bored so I wrote angst, apparently.
The ground was cold; the snow was stained with red
From the gash in the older hero's side
The younger thought his brother must be dead
But still he breathed, though only half-alive
The older was only barely awake
His blood was leaving him so very fast
He grasped his brother's hand with all his strength
"I love you," were his words; they were his last
The younger hero cried out in despair
He sobbed as he removed his brother's mask
The sight of blank blue eyes he could not bear
Closing the lids was not an easy task
A simple bullet took him to the floor
And the great hero Nightwing was no more
A/N: Yeah, it's short. Yeah, it's a sonnet. Yeah, I killed a beloved character in a poem. Sorry 'bout that…
Anyways, sorry to those of y'all that are waiting for the next chapter of my story Hidden Threats. It's been a really long time, but I'm almost done with the next chapter.
I'm a procrastinator. In fact, I'm actually supposed to be working on a lab report for Chemistry right now, but I'm doing this instead. Meh.
~Val