It Takes Death To Make You See

by FishyGuruKat

And it does. It takes death by a certain Joker for a cheater to see how much pain he's caused, for a "nobody" to see how much he's really wanted, and for a bitter pregnant teen to see the joys in life.

Disclaimer- I do not own Batman. If I did, Alfred would be a super flying ninja monkey. Monkeys rock.

I'm dying.

Dying with a smile on my face.

How cruel.

How ironic.

I don't see random happy moments passing through my head.

I don't see Ali.

I don't see Clara.

I don't see Emilie, Maci, or George.

Why?

I guess I deserve this.

Death.

And I'm sure he knows it.

The clown.

The Joker.

I'm sure he knows how I cheated on my wife.

How I changed from a normal guy to . . .

This.

This man who parades out in bars

Leaving his wife at home

Leaving his kids at home

All alone.

Fame can do this to you.

And I'm sure she won't be sad.

Ali.

My mistress.

She'll move on.

To another man

And forget.

Like the Joker.

He won't remember the good-looking guy he killed on Sunday the fifth.

She won't remember the man she spent half her life with.

But they will.

My wife, my kids.

The ones I abandoned.

How ironic.

A joke from the dead.

I guess that's why he's called the Joker.

And then I die.

For once I'm not trying to figure out how this benefits me.

For once I'm not thinking.

I'm feeling.

How ironic.